


Bellatrix Weasley

by BrightSilverKitty (PersephoneSleeps)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bellatrix and Ron are "twins", Bellatrix as a Weasley, Bellatrix raised as a Weasley, Crack, De-aged Bellatrix, Family, I mean, Maybe Not Crack, Percy letting everyone down, idk - Freeform, maybe serious, the Department of Mysteries and Crack Fics is a pairing in itself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 13:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephoneSleeps/pseuds/BrightSilverKitty
Summary: After a mishap at the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix is adopted into the Weasley Family. These are their stories. Or at least, a quick series of flashes in the life of Bellatrix Weasley. A crack fic I've decided to write down.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Early November, 1981_ **

The single best present that Arthur Weasley ever received was the Muggle Radio that his son Bill had given him for christmas two years earlier. It was charmed to work even in places of high magical activity. He carried the little yellow box with him everywhere he went, and was often fiddling with the dials, and twisting the antenna to try and get better reception. He had become quite the connoisseur of Muggle music, and it was common for the rest of his department to put silencing charms around his office so that they could have a little peace and quiet. 

On that particular Wednesday, Arthur was so preoccupied with his case on bogart-infested cabbage patch kids that he did not notice the violent shudder of his door, or the angry face of the Department of Mysteries’ newest unspeakable poking through the window of his office. It was only after he spilled a spoonful of soup on his robes, and decided to head to the toilet to wash them off, that he noticed the purple face at his door.

“So sorry,” he said, opening the door. “Were you looking for me?”

The unspeakable seemed to be having trouble speaking. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then gasped out “You have to come with me!” 

All along the hallway, doors opened and people poked their heads out to stare at him. It wasn’t every day that an unspeakable deigned to fetch someone directly instead of sending an owl. Arthur smiled, “Of course. Just let me get my umbrella.”

The hundreds of Ministry owls that delivered memos necessitated the use of umbrellas. Arthur’s was a bright yellow one he had found at a pub in New York City. 

“You must be very new,” he said to the unspeakable when they boarded the lift. The poor boy had not yet learned to bring his own umbrella, and his robes were already spotted with owl droppings. There was only a grunt in reply, but Arthur didn’t mind.

“Level Nine, Department of Mysteries,” said the cool disembodied voice.

Arthur stepped out, and immediately felt as if he should have brought a coat. How the ninth level managed to look and feel like the most desolate dungeon in Hogwarts was beyond him. The unspeakable yanked his hood up, and beckoned Arthur to follow him.

The corridor seemed to stretch in length as they walked down it. Doors sprang out of nowhere, and every once in a while voices could be heard shouting or cheering. They were almost to the end of the corridor when the whole room spun around, and Arthur found himself staring at the wall. The unspeakable sighed, and turned him around so that he could see the new receptionist area that had materialized. 

“Is this him, then?” Asked a gravelly-voiced man wearing a hooded cape. In the gloom of the corridor, Arthur would have thought sight was more important than appearing ominous and creepy, but the Unspeakables were nothing if not committed.

The skinny boy leading Arthur chirped, “Yes, Director.”

Arthur perked up. The Director of the Department of Mysteries was the one to summon him? Everyone had heard of the man, Aurelius Grim, but he was the type that scuttled to and from the Ministry in the twilight hours. Rumor had it he hadn’t slept in over a decade.

The sallow skin that was visible certainly looked sickly, but Arthur quickly dropped his gaze. 

“So, you’re Dumbledore’s first choice.” 

Arthur started. “Dumbledore?” 

There was a low sound, like sandpaper rubbing together, and it occurred to Arthur that the man might be laughing. 

“Yes, Dumbledore. Everyone seems to be looking to him now. He is our Chief Warlock, after all. The Minister has put the affair entirely in Dumbledore’s hands, and the man has picked you.”

The unspeakable who led Arthur there snuck a glance at him, and Arthur tried to look more confident than he felt. He felt a pang of regret that he had not washed the mustard stain from his collar at lunch. “I’m sure if Dumbledore picked me then I’m more than capable of handling whatever it is.”

There was another rasp of laughter, and the Director turned and pressed his palm to the wall behind him. A door materialized, and creaked open. “It’s not a what, Weasley,” he said, “It’s a who.” He jerked his head as if to say ‘follow me’, and stepped inside.

Arthur took a calming breath, and walked into an office that was covered head to toe in posters of Celestina Warbuck.

“Have a seat Mr. Weasley,” said the Director, as he took a seat behind a rickety desk that looked like it had been put together by a three-year old. Arthur sat, and wondered if the desk budget had been used on Celestina posters.

“Simms, go get the, er- _her_.”

The unspeakable who Arthur decided was named Simms jumped, and scampered from the room.

The Director let out a heavy sigh, and waved his wand at the poster nearest him. Celestina immediately began singing, and her voice floated out over the two men.

“ _Oh my honey, bunny, funny, little loooooove…”_

The Director closed his eyes, “Much better.” His hands fidgeted with the air in front of him, and he slowly opened his eyes. “Now, you know that the Auror Department are rounding up all of the suspected followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" 

“Yes,” said Arthur carefully. It seemed that everyone was coming forward with information about Death Eaters, and he wondered if someone had named him as one. For a brief moment of panic he imagined his wife and children starving in the gutters of Diagon Alley because he was chained up in Azkaban.

“Bellatrix Lestrange is a suspected collaborator,” continued the Director. 

That was hardly a surprise. The image of an ugly sneer stretched across a beautiful face sprang to mind, and Arthur gave an involuntary shiver. He considered himself lucky that the eldest Black daughter had never targeted him in one of her cruel pranks. She was notorious for sending their peers to the Hospital Wing, but Slughorn had a soft spot for those liquid grey eyes.

There was the sound of a drawer opening, and the soft scuffle of papers. The director pulled out a folder and a pipe, gave Arthur a suspicious look, and then sat back. “We had Auror’s primed to bring her in today for questioning. You heard about the Longbottom attack?”

Arthur went cold. He had been a prefect when Frank Longbottom was sorted into Gryffindor, and the boy had followed him around like a puppy for the first year. “Er, yes.” He tried not to picture the christmas card Frank had sent, with a photograph of little Neville in reindeer pajamas.

“Terrible,” said the director with no real remorse. He struck a match and puffed as the tobacco caught. “They say the damage is irreversible. I reckon it’s the permanent ward at St. Mungo’s for them.” 

Frank’s neat handwriting sprang to mind. _Thanks for everything, Artie._ He licked his lips. “Sorry, but what does that have to do-”

“They say Lestrange is the one that did it.” The director exhaled a cloud of cherry smoke. Celestina still warbled in the background. “They say she tortured them for hours, with her husband and his brother as lookouts.”

“Then she’ll get Azkaban!” Arthur forced a wave of nausea back as he thought of little Neville, who was just about his son Ron’s age…

“Oh, not now.” The director leaned back in his chair and gave a grisly chuckle. “I suspect the Lestrange boys will get life, but _she’s_ going to get away free as a hippogriff." 

“I don’t understand.”

There was another puff of cherry smoke, and the man drummed his fingers on the desk. “The Longbottoms must’ve said something. That madwoman broke into the Department of Mysteries-”

Arthur sat up straighter, his eyes wide.

“-made it as far as one of the inner rooms too, before the traps went off. Problem is- she tried to evade them, and she was knocked into the Murphy Vat!”

This evidently meant something that Arthur did not understand, for the director let out a high pitched peal of laughter. “The Murphy Vat!”

It occured to Arthur that earning such a high position in the Department of Mysteries meant sacrificing a bit of sanity.

When he regained control, the Director cleared his throat. “Well, she’s not fit for trial now, is she?" 

Feeling as if he was missing a key component, Arthur swallowed and asked. “Isn’t she?”

Another bout of glee crossed the director’s face, and he said, “You’ll see. Oh you’ll see! As soon as Simms returns!”

Luckily, Simms returned a moment later, carrying a wriggling bundle of rags. 

“She’s fussy all right,” said Simms, setting the bundle on the desk between them. As soon as he did a small pink fist rose from the yellowed blankets, and a high wail broke out.

“You see, Weasley?” said the director with a feral grin. “It’s quite impossible to try her now.”

Arthur looked at the baby, and then at the Director, and then at Simms. Then at the baby again. 

“No,” he said, “it can’t be.”

“It can, and it is,” chuckled the director.

“Shouldn’t you try to calm her?” asked Arthur as the baby let out another scream. He was torn between revulsion and horror, but the father of seven children could not stand to hear a child in distress.

“She’s fine,” said Simms. He looked about as nurturing as a pile of soggy newspaper. 

“For the last week I’ve been in constant contact with her,” said the director. “We’ve run every test, I’ve even had the best legilimens out to read her. Dumbledore himself has examined her, and we’ve come to the conclusion that she is, in fact, a baby.”

An uneasy sensation washed over him. “And what does that have to do with me?”

Simms laughed, and the director puffed his pipe. “She’s going to need a home, Weasley. The Department of Mysteries is no place for a child. Especially not this child. We’re all keen to get rid of her. There would be compensation, of course. The entirety of her personal vault would be routed to you for her care.” 

Despite his feelings for the elder Bellatrix, Arthur could not help but feel a small pang of sympathy. Especially not when another wail rose above them.

“She should age like any other child.”

“She has a sister- two sisters-”

“Narcissa Malfoy is married to a suspected Death Eater- Lucius is scheduled to be questioned next week, and Andromeda Tonks is married to a Muggleborn and lives in a Muggle neighborhood.” The director shrugged, “I’m sure you can understand our reluctance to place a pureblood child with people who are-” he grimaced, “culturally different from her?”

“Even her own sister?” asked Arthur in disbelief.

“Estranged sister. We have no idea how Mrs. Tonks would treat her sister given the circumstances. And considering the atmosphere, the board decided it would be best to find a neutral, pureblooded family with which to place young Bellatrix. That’s when Dumbledore suggested you.”

Arthur felt as if he were falling down a never ending staircase. His mouth fell open and hung there.

“We’d make it official, of course. The full course of blood adoption potions, new birth certificate, the works. We could even have a mind healer alter your family’s memories-”

“Blood adoption…?” It was difficult to breathe.

“Simms looked into your records, and we figure she’s about the age of your youngest son. We can pass them off as twins-”

“Hold on,” interjected Arthur weakly, “I haven’t even asked my wife yet. I can’t possibly make this decision-”

“She’s on her way now,” piped in Simms. He gave Arthur a smug look, “I summoned her before I went to collect you.”

Sure enough, Molly bustled in a moment later, held his hand as the director explained it all to them- though she interrupted to pick up the screaming child, “You really mustn't ignore a cry like _that_ ”- and happily agreed to the scheme without even requesting a private room in which she could consult with him.

Arthur felt a little dazed an hour later as he stood in a stifling room and allowed Simms to prick his palm with a sharp blade.

“This is Ogerton’s original recipe,” Simms said with an affected sniff.

Arthur thought Ogerton could have worked harder to mask the smell of the snake bile.

The potion was tipped down a screaming Bellatrix’s throat, and Arthur felt a pang of sympathy as the child went limp in shock.

“I thought it was supposed to change her appearance,” said Molly in confusion.

Simms looked bored, “Sometimes the old blood is stronger than the new blood, and the changes are more subtle. There, see-” he pointed to a spatter of fine freckles that erupted over the baby’s nose. “Now she’s a Weasley.”

There was also a subtle lengthening of the nose, but Arthur reflected that it would be much harder to see changes in a baby’s face than in an adult. The black curls remained stubbornly dark, but the eyes were Weasley blue when they flew open with another scream. .

It was the eyes that settled his stomach. He remembered Bellatrix Black’s cruel grey eyes shining victoriously after each and every prank she pulled at Hogwarts. Had she kept them, he never could have looked at the child and felt she was his daughter. But the blue eyes were a clean slate.

“Poor dear,” cooed Molly as Simms escorted them to the Floo points near the Atrium. “We’ll have to get a proper routine going. That should settle her down. I’ll go first, dear, with Trixie. You can follow after.”

“Trixie?!” He sputtered, but Molly had already plunged into the green flames.

Why they kept her original first name he never knew. They could just as easily have changed it to Elladora, or Stacy or something less…

It took years before he could say his eldest daughter’s full first name without cringing internally.

They had decided against memory charms on the boys. They agreed on a story that Bellatrix had been sickly, and had been at St. Mungo’s for most of her life. The older boys would have to know the truth, of course, or at least that she was adopted. Molly decided that it was best for everyone if they forgot that Bellatrix was a de-aged blood supremacist.

“We’ll treat her like any child, and we’ll raise her to be better.” She said, nodding. And when Molly put her foot down she meant it. They never spoke about Bellatrix’s- their Bellatrix’s- past again. Little Bellatrix certainly never heard of it. She was a full Weasley now.

The twins seemed to accept that Trixie was their long-lost sister home from a lengthy stay in the hospital. Being three years old, it was easy enough to convince them. Charlie was a bit harder to convince, but he stared solemnly up at his mother and swore to treat the new baby as his sister. Bill wrote back that he would rather have another sister than another brother, and Ron passively allowed Bellatrix to play with his blocks on the kitchen floor.

It was five year old Percy, who surprised them all the first night. He was a shy, mousy boy who spent quite a bit of time whining about what was fair and what wasn’t. He had nodded when they explained that Bellatrix was his new sister, and had not asked any questions beyond her name.

But at three o’clock in the morning, when her high piercing wails began their fourth hour of nonstop noise, Percy pounded down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Stop!” He cried, his little face red from lack of sleep. “Stop now!”

“She can’t help it, Perce,” said Arthur tiredly as he walked the length of the fireplace with Bellatrix on his shoulder. “She’s just upset. Go on back to bed.”

Percy put one slippered foot on the chair next to his mother, and regarded the baby with wide eyes. “Why is she upset?”

Molly, who was warming up yet another bottle in hopes that Bellatrix would finally eat, said, “She’s been away from her family for so long that she doesn’t know who we are. So it feels like she’s in a strange house. With strange people.” She stifled a yawn, and leaned over to check that Ginny was still sleeping (the youngest Weasley was a very deep sleeper).

Percy straightened, and stepped over to his father. “Hey,” he reached up and grabbed Bellatrix’s hand. “Hey!”

Startled, Bellatrix hiccupped, and stopped mid wail. Her large blue eyes stared at Percy as she took in a wavering breath.

“You’re home!” Said Percy, as if speaking to someone from a great distance. “You’re with your family!”

Bellatrix blinked at him, and then her mouth twitched into a smile.

“That’s better,” said Percy, “There’s no need to scream!”

The two parents shared an incredulous look.

Arthur, who had sung every lullaby he had ever thought of, had a rush of crazed inspiration. “Would you like to try feeding her, Percy?”

The boy hesitated, then nodded. He settled on the chair next to his mother, and smiled as Bellatrix was settled on his lap.

“Support her head, like you do with Ron,” said Molly as she positioned the bottle in her son’s hand.

Miraculously, Bellatrix accepted the bottle, and stared wide-eyed at Percy while she emptied it.

“I like you,” said Percy happily. He was beginning to yawn, and Arthur gently led him to bed.

“Will Bell be here tomorrow?” Asked Percy sleepily as he crawled beneath his dragon sheets.

“Yes. And the day after that, and the day after that.” Arthur smiled fondly at his middle child, and tucked the covers around him.

Percy pulled his stuffed dog to his chest. “Good. She’s a good thing.”

And for the first time since Simms had summoned him, Arthur felt like things would turn out ok. He loved his children, after all, and they had always said that their children were a blessing.

In a world filled with darkness, Arthur could use another blessing.


	2. Chapter 2

**_August, 1987_ **

“Now Charlie, you take the smalls and get your robes. Bill, I want you to take the bigs- Fred, do not put that in your mouth! Bill, I want you to go get the books. I’ll take Ginny and Percy-”

All over the Alley, witches and wizards made way for the loud Weasley brood. One woman groaned, “Oh no!” and disapparated home to her cats. A life without necessities was better than spending one more moment on the same cobblestones as the unruly family.

“Nooooo,” whined Ginny, “I want to go with Charlie!”

Bellatrix snuck a glance at Ron, and they both withheld a sigh. Ginny’s tantrums were becoming the stuff of legends. As the “smalls”-the small twins- they were often grouped in with their baby sister, but both knew the difference a year could make.

“I’ll go with Percy,” offered Bellatrix. She recognized the tell-tale curl of Ginny’s lip, and wanted nothing more than to avoid having a scene in front of the remaining shoppers.

Ron groaned, and Ginny brightened.

Their mother, who had spent half the night carefully counting out the rest of that month’s budget in preparation, waved Bellatrix forward. “Alright then, I’ll take Trixie but Ginny, _do not ask for anything_. This is for the older boys only.” She turned away before she could see Ginny’s lip wobble again, and ushered Percy forward. “We have just enough from your father’s last bonus to get a new wand,” she said kindly.

Bellatrix beamed, and threaded her arm through Percy’s. Her older brother looked a bit pale. “Aren’t you excited?” She gave his arm a squeeze, “I can’t wait to get my wand! Even if it is made of toad intestines.”

Percy jerked, and gave her a look, “Who told you that?”

“Charlie.”

“Well,” Percy sniffed, “Charlie is wrong. Ollivander doesn’t deal in toad intestines. He only uses the finest ingredients-” His eyes widened, and Bellatrix looked ahead to see their mother holding the door to the wand shop open.

“In you go, dears,” she said, her smile bright.

The shop smelled dusty, and a girl about Percy’s age pushed past them with her mother. Her hands were wrapped tightly around a long, thin box.

“Another Weasley?” Said a thin, hushed voice. “Yes, yes, I see.”

“Hello Mr. Ollivander,” said their mother in her cheerful voice. It seemed to cut the gloom of the shop considerably, and Bellatrix felt herself take a full breath. “My third son, Percy, is here for his wand. Percy, dear, come here.”

Percy looked for a moment like he would collapse, then he straightened his shoulders and marched forward.

“Ah, more rigid than your brothers, I see, but I think…” a long tape measure flew forward, and Percy gasped as it began to measure every inch of his body. Percy stood still and allowed it to work, his eyes fixed on the brass bell that was affixed to the counter.

Finally, the old man called off the tape measure, and looked at the results with keen eyes. “Yes, yes. I think I have just the thing…” He disappeared, and re-emerged with an armful of glossy boxes. “Try this-”

Bellatrix watched, fascinated, as a number of wands were thrust into Percy’s hands, only to be pulled out again.

Percy was beginning to get discouraged, she could tell, when a final box was shoved in his hand. Immediately, his brows rose, and he gave it a wave. Pink and silver bubbles shot out, popping to the tune of “Good King Wenceslaus,” and Percy let out an uncharacteristic shout of triumph.

“Look, Bell!”

Bellatrix giggled, and drew the attention of Mr. Ollivander. His eyes slid to her and went wide.

“Well, then, who do we have here? Not another Weasley?”

Her mother carefully counted out the coveted galleons for Percy’s wand and said distractedly, “Our eldest girl. Bellatrix.”

“Hmmm,” his eyes pierced hers, and Bellatrix felt a shiver run down her spine. “Curious. Very curious.

“What is?” said Percy. His voice had lost all merriment, and he stepped forward, as if to shield his sister from the filmy gaze of the wandmaker.

“I had thought the Blacks had died out, but I see they are alive and well in the new Weasley generation. Oh, there’s Weasley there, I see it! But there’s something there that’s undeniably... _older_.”

Percy stiffened. Bellatrix, who was disappointed that she hadn’t had the chance to swish around a wand, frowned petulantly up at the old man. The look he gave her made her stomach twist.

“I think we’ll pay for the wand now, Mr. Ollivander,” said their mother firmly. She reached down to grasp Bellatrix’s hand, and the girl felt safer with her mother near. She dropped a handful of shining galleons on the counter, and took their change with a breezy, “Thank you.”

The sunshine and breeze of the Alley was a welcome change from the musty old shop.

“Don’t you mind him, Trixie,” her mother said, giving her hand a shake. “He spends so much time with his woods and his animal parts that he forgets how to speak to little girls.”

Bellatrix was too caught up in remembering the encounter to object to being called a ‘little girl’.

Percy remained silent and withdrawn for the remainder of the outing. He sat, twisting his new wand back and forth at dinner. Even the big twins were unable to rouse him from his thoughts.

“Leave him,” said Ron after dinner. “We’re going to toss the Quaffle around in the garden, and Charlie says he’ll take us up on his broom.”

“I’ll come out later,” said Bellatrix as she watched Percy climb the stairs. As much as she wanted to bask in the glow of hurtling ten feet above the ground on Charlie’s old Sweepfleet broomstick, she had a duty as the only sibling Percy would tolerate to see what bothered her older brother. “I want to make sure he’s ok.”

Ron rolled his eyes, but gave her a good-natured shove. “Alright, I’ll tell Charlie then.”

Bellatrix put her dishes in the sink, and carefully padded up the stairs. She knocked on Percy’s door, and opened it when he called her in.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting down next to him on the bed.

“Thinking.” He held a sleeping Scabbers in his hands. The fat rat wrinkled his nose, and then opened a sleepy eye to regard her.

She waited a moment, and then let out a huff. “Thinking about what?”

He looked up, his eyes narrowed. “Ollivander said that you were more than a Weasley, but he didn’t say anything about me!”

She blinked, surprised. The sound of hollering drifted through the open window, and her mother screeched from the garden “If you do that again you’ll be sent straight to bed! Bill, pay some attention!”

Percy scowled, and smacked his window shut. “All anyone sees when they look at me is another Weasley.” He twisted the wand again, and a billow of black smoke plumed out. “At least you could pass as someone else.”

All her life, her black hair had been a sore spot. She would have much rather looked like Percy and Ron than like her grandmother Cedrella Black. “I don’t want to pass as someone else,” she said stubbornly. At least she had their father’s nose and eyes, and her mother’s wild curls. Ginny’s hair was straight as a brick. “I’m happy as a Weasley.”

Percy sighed, and the smoke stopped. “I’m tired of being lumped in with everyone else. I don’t want everyone to see another Weasley, I want them to see _me_.”

“I see you,” she said, throwing her arms around his middle.

He patted her on the back. “Thanks, Bell. I see you too.” He sighed, “You’re just as cursed as the rest of us.” 

She smirked, “That’s not a bad thing.”

He sighed again, and smoothed out the worn patchwork quilt. The cat always liked Percy’s room best, but he left long white hairs on the bed. Percy looked at the hairs and said, “I want to be something more.”

“You will be,” she said against his chest. “You’ll be the best of us.”

She firmly believed it.

They said goodbye to him a month later. She ran alongside the Hogwarts Express as it pulled away, waving and calling out “Percy! Percy, write!”

He did, and wrote that he had been sorted into Slytherin.

“The first Weasley in over two centuries,” said their father over breakfast. He exchanged a look with their mother, who hummed a little too cheerfully as she filled Bellatrix’s glass with pumpkin juice.

“That means he’s an evil git,” said Fred.

“We always knew it,” said George. “Don’t worry Mum, you’ll still have seven good kids. We won’t be like- Ow! Trixie!”

Bellatrix kicked him again, and spent the rest of the morning fuming in her room.

**_Summer 1988_ **

Percy came back a little more formal, and a bit more “snobbish” (as the rest of her siblings called him), but his eyes shone when he saw her on the platform.

“What’s it like in Slytherin?” She asked, ignoring Fred and George as they ran ahead shouting-

“Out of the way! The next You-Know-Who is coming!”

Their mother blushed furiously and snapped, “Boys! Get back here!” To Percy she said, “Don’t worry dear, they don’t mean anything.”

Percy grinned down at Bellatrix, “It’s the best.”

That summer, Bellatrix listened with wide eyes as Percy waxed poetic about the joys of Slytherin. Everything he said about the house directly contradicted Charlie, who had formerly been the supreme scholar on everything Hogwarts.

While Charlie said that Slytherins were evil, Percy said they were a loyal lot who went above and beyond to protect and look out for each other.

Charlie stated that the Slytherin head of House was a vampire who performed secret rituals on the night of the full moon. Percy said Professor Snape was a fair minded human who enforced the rules a little more stringently than the other lackadaisical professors.

When Charlie said that the Slytherins ate muggle borns and blood traitors for breakfast, Percy said they were really quite forward thinking, and that they even had a muggleborn in his year.

“Are we blood traitors?” She asked the morning before Percy would leave her again. Percy had thrown that word around a lot lately, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“ _We’re_ not,” he said. He sat on the floor with a battered textbook, and sighed before placing it in his trunk. As always, Scabbers slumbered on a pile of clean socks. Catching her eye, Percy frowned. “There are some who would say Dad and Mum are though.” He winced as the big twins’ laughter roared from the corridor.

She wrinkled her freckled nose, “If Mum and Dad are, doesn’t that mean we have to be too?”

He shook his head. “We don’t have to be anything like them,” he said vehemently. “In Slytherin you learn that you make your own future, regardless of who your parents are.”

A thrill went through Bellatrix at the words, but she felt a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Like how she felt when Fred and George locked her in the cellar.

That night, in the attic room she shared with Ron, she whispered. “I think Percy hates it here.”

Ron, who had been half asleep, rolled over to face her. Between their beds was the black line she had drawn earlier that year to remind him to keep his things on his side of the room. However, their room might have belonged to the same person. There were Quidditch posters everywhere. Piles of dirty muggle clothes were draped over the old chair in the corner, and the dresser was covered in two-knut figures of quidditch players. Some of the shiny brass characters flew their brooms in lazy circles around the dresser, but most of them just brandished their brooms over and over. The only sign that two people shared the room was the blue “B” was painted over Bellatrix’s bed, and the red “R” over Ron’s.

He looked at her in the soft light of their snitch lamp, and mumbled. “What’s to hate?”

Sometimes she thought her twin was a bit dim.

“Don’t you ever wish we lived in a nice house and had loads of money?”

Ron yawned, “The house is already nice. And we have plenty of money.”

Ok, she was going to have to be more direct. “Aren’t you tired of only wearing hand-me-downs?”

He propped his chin onto his hand and scowled at her. “You don’t have to wear hand-me-downs. All your clothes are new.”

“No, they’re second _hand,_ ” she corrected, scowling back at him. “At least you know who has worn your clothes, all mine come from strangers.”

“Like that’s any better!” He shot back, sitting up. “I get my clothes after Fred and George! _Fred and George!_ You can’t imagine the things that have been done to them.”

She winced. Half of Ron’s pockets were glued shut with some sticky substance, and the other half were battered almost beyond recognition. “Do you think if we were in Slytherin we’d have more of a chance of being rich when we’re older?”

“More of a chance of being an evil git like Perc- ow!” A boot hit him square in the chest. “Don’t throw things at me!” Ron roared.

“Don’t call Percy an evil git!”

“What’s going on in here?” Asked a voice from the doorway. Bill stood there, looking sleepy and tousled.

“Percy’s been poisoning Trixie’s mind against us!” Cried Ron.

Bellatrix shot her twin a dirty look, “He has not Ronald!”

Bill closed the door behind him, and sat down between their beds. Like Percy, he took the time to speak to his younger siblings. Unlike Percy, he didn’t lecture.

“How has Percy been poisoning your mind, Trix?”

Bellatrix shot another dirty look at Ron. “I’ve just been thinking that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if we weren't _exactly_ like Mum and Dad when we grow up.” Under Bill’s calm gaze she shifted. “It would be-er- nice, to…”

“To not be poor?” Asked Bill kindly.

Ron sputtered, “I told her we’re not _poor_ -”

“Oh, we’re poor,” said Bill in his slow, cheerful voice. “You’ll see that when you go to school, Ron. But what _else_ are Mum and Dad, Trix?”

Bellatrix wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”

“What else are they? Our money isn’t the only thing about us. What else?” He stretched out his legs, “Are they cruel?”

“Noooo,” she said slowly. “Dad’s really nice, and Mum is nicer than he is.”

Bill nodded. “Go on.”

She tried to think of her parents. “Dad’s really… honest. And Mum works hard.”

Ron pushed his blanket off and sat up. “Mum’s really smart. She helps us every day with our lessons, and she knows everything!”

“And Dad brings us presents when he goes away for work!” said Bellatrix, basking in Bill’s approving grin. He didn’t often take interest in the younger siblings. He and Charlie were usually off doing their own thing.

“Dad reads the paper to us in funny voices!” cried Ron a little too loudly, he lowered his voice to a whisper when Bill shushed him, “And he’s good at reading Babbitty Rabbitty too!”

Bellatrix added, “And Mum always makes my bacon a little bendy because she knows I like it that way, and she makes Percy’s extra crispy!”

They went back and forth for a long time. When she and Ron could think of nothing else to say about their parents, Bill said gently. “Do you really think it would be so awful to be like them when you grow up, Trix?”

She wrinkled her brow, and then felt a rush of guilt. “No,” she said in a small voice.

“Ha!” said Ron.

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” said Bill, leaning over to ruffle her curls. “But keep in mind that Percy’s opinion isn’t the only one.”

“It would be nice to have more money,” said Bellatrix loyally. She wasn’t about to throw Percy under the knight bus.

“It would,” said Bill. “But you try having eight kids to look after and put through school and we’ll see how much money you have.” He stood up. “They’re doing their best, Trix. And I think we’re pretty lucky."

“So do I,” parroted Ron.

After a moment, Bellatrix nodded. She felt very small under Bill’s stare. “I’m sorry.” She hesitated, then asked, “Are you going to tell Mum and Dad?”

“No,” he sucked in a breath. “It would just make them feel bad.”

After he left, Ron came and sat at the foot of her bed. She felt miserable and torn, but Ron patted her leg the way their mother did. “It’s ok, Trixie. Bill’s not mad at you.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she said, staring back at him. “Percy’s not an evil git.”

Ron nodded, “If you say so.”

She sat up. “Do you think he knows that Mum and Dad are good people?”

But she might have had more luck asking the cat. Ron just gave her a hollow look and said, “I’m sure he does.”

She wasn’t so sure. She had thought that Percy meant that he didn’t want to be poor when he grew up, but now as she thought back to how serious Percy had looked, she wondered.

The next morning she hugged Percy tightly. He had blushed and moved aside when their mother tried to embrace him, but when Bellatrix did he merely gave her a one armed hug and said, “Send me lots of letters, will you?”

“I’ll see you at Christmas, won’t I?” She asked anxiously.

He frowned, and looked up at the train. “Promise you won’t tell Mum?”

She nodded.

He patted her back. “I’m going to try and stay at the castle this year. Macnair is too, and I think it might be nice to- don’t give me that look!” He looked at the train and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Bell. I’ve got to go. The others will’ve found a compartment by now. Write, ok?”

He jumped on the train without looking back, and Bellatrix was left on the platform alone.

“Trixie, dear. We’re over here!”

Bellatrix had never been so relieved to hear her mother’s voice. She ran back to her and fell against her side.

“Did Percy already go? Shame. I wanted to give him- Bill dear, will you give Percy his lunch? Bless.”

Bellatrix was retreating inside her mind when a strong arm reached out and pulled her into a tight hug.

“I’ll see you at Christmas, sis,” said Bill.

She laughed, and hugged him back.

“Cheer up,” he whispered into her ear. “You don’t want to worry Mum, do you?”

She shook her head, and smiled at him happily when he released her.

“Bye Trix! Bye Ron! Bye Forge! No, Ginny, I didn’t forget you, don’t cry...”

Ron slipped his hand into hers as they left the station, and Bellatrix felt her stomach ease somewhat. Her day brightened when her mother announced that they had just enough left for ice cream.

**_November 1988_ **

Bellatrix hated Simms more than any of the other healers. Their main family healer was Healer Wellfry, a jolly faced man with a deep voice and kind eyes who always gave ice mice to the children after their visits. But because Bellatrix had been sickly as a baby she also had the misfortune of sing Mr. Simms.

He didn’t make her go to St. Mungo’s. Instead, he showed up unexpectedly several times a year and ran tests that always made Bellatrix feel funny afterwards.

On this particular day Bellatrix felt out of sorts already. She had written three times to Percy the week before, and had not yet received a reply.

“Hands,” said Simms roughly. He gave her an imperious look as he ran his wand over her proffered palms. “Don’t you ever wash?”

Bellatrix scowled, “I wash plenty. Certainly a good deal more than _you”,_ she gave a significant look to his oily hair.

“Trixie, manners,” clicked her mother from the corner. The visits with Simms always took place in the kitchen with her mother or father watching anxiously on.

“Yeah, Trixie,” chirped Fred as he casually walked into the kitchen. One of her brothers always managed to eavesdrop on her appointment with Simms. Fred walked to the cabinet and whistled innocently as he pulled a glass down. A moment later the fridge opened.

Her mother cleared her throat, “Hurry, Fred dear, give Trixie some privacy.” To Bellatrix, she said, “What do you say to Mr. Simms?”

Bellatrix sighed, and muttered, “Sorry.”

“It’s no more than I’d expect from a small child,” groused Simms. He shook his wand and the tip lit up, “Follow the light.”

Bellatrix followed the light with her eyes, and frowned as a headache formed. “It hurts,” she complained.

“That means it’s working,” grumbled Simms.

“Do we have any bread and jam, mother dearest?” Asked Fred, “Ooh, are those scissors?”

With shiny silver scissors in hand, Simms hummed a Celestina Warbuck song under his breath as he cut a lock of Bellatrix’s hair and mixed it into a potion.

“Hey!”

“Trixie…”

“But he’s just cutting-“

“Trixie! He hasn't hurt you, for Merlin's sake!”

Simms snickered under his breath. “Nasty little troll aren’t you?” His voice was so low that her mother hadn’t heard.

Bellatrix glowered at him, but snapped her mouth shut.

Fred, who had poured a glass of milk, made a face. “Never mind about the bread, Mum.” He met Bellatrix’s eyes and gave her a cheerful grin, then slid back through the door.

“Is she making tolerable progress in her daily studies?” Simms turned a bored face towards their mother.

Her mother nodded, a pleased flush entered her cheeks. “I’d say so. She’s just memorized most of The Young Warlocke’s Book of Poetry, and her arithmancy is better than Ron’s-“

“The twin?” Something in the way he said “twin” made it sound like he was mocking her. Their mother ignored it.

“Yes, and her penmanship is coming along nicely-“

“Splendid. That’s just the news we wanted to hear.” Simms sounded like he was reciting from a script. He made her spit into a vial, then stoppered it and slid it (and the other samples he had collected) into his black case. “That will be all for today, Madam Weasley. If all goes well this will be my last visit.”

A significant look passed between the two adults, but Bellatrix missed it. Happiness spread through her chest and made her grin. “Then I won’t get sick again?” She asked.

Simms arched a brow when he looked back down at her. “No, I suppose you won’t,” he drawled.

She hasn’t realized how worried she had been until her stomach eased. Her parents had assured her that she was healthy, but it was one thing to hear it from your parents, and quite another to hear it from the evil git who treated you like a laboratory experiment.

“Would you like to stay for tea?” Her mother asked the greasy “healer”.

Simms sniffed, and stood, “Not today, Madam Weasley.” He made his way to the door, and tucked his case under one arm. “I’d like to finish these tests, and- oof!”

Simms had opened the kitchen door to leave, and a metal clang filled the room. A bucket clattered to the stone steps outside the door, and a pungent green goo oozed down the upper half of Mr. Simms. The man sputtered, and tried to take a step forward, but something tripped him, and he let out a high pitched scream as he tumbled down the steps.

“Mr- oh!” Her mother rushed forward, and stopped at the door. Bellatrix would bave missed the trip rope stretched across the bottom of the door were it not for the green goo that dripped from it.

Her mother turned bright red. “Boys!!!”

Two identical faces popped up from the blackberry bush near the back door, and one of them hurled a fist full of feathers down at Simms. “That’s what you get for calling my sister a troll!” George yelled.

Their mother leaned forward, then back. Bellatrix could tell she was torn between helping the wretch and punishing the older twins. At last she pulled out her wand and vanished the trip rope. “Let me help you, Mr. Simms-“

“That won’t be necessary!” Simms managed to find his feet and hoisted himself upright. He turned to glare at the Weasley matriarch and spat, “Madam, I hope this is the last I see of you and your brood!” With that, he disapparated.

For a moment, their mother stood there in stunned silence. Then she slowly rounded on the big twins.

Fred and George looked to each other, then to their mother and screamed, “Mercy!”

In the end, they were each thoroughly lectured on the benefits of hospitality, and then sent to bed without supper. Bellatrix waited a full hour after the dinner table had been cleared (her father chuckled throughout the meal, despite her mother hissing, “Arthur, don’t encourage them!”) to make a little basket of sandwiches and juice, then she snuck up to the big twins’ room while her parents argued in the garden.

“You keep watch,” she whispered to Ron. Her twin had been sullen about missing the whole ordeal.

“But Trixie!”

She cut him off, “Someone needs to keep an eye out for Mum and Ginny, and it’s not going to be me.”

He huffed, and threw himself down on the stairs. “Fiiiiine,” he growled.

She patted his head, “Good Ronnie.” Then, with a deep breath, she moved forward.

“There’s our sweet little sister!” Said George happily as the door opened. “We knew you’d come to our aid. You always were-“

“-a lover of chivalry,” finished Fred.

Bellatrix blushed, and watched them rifle through the basket. “I wanted to say thank you…”

“No thanks necessary, Trixie Trix.” Said George with a mouth full of sandwich.

Fred swallowed before he spoke, “We weren’t about to let him badmouth our family.”

“The smell should remind him from now on,” said George. His eyes gleamed. “It won’t wash off easily, that’s for sure.”

Bellatrix laughed, picturing the green goo that covered the irritating man. “What was that?”

“Ghoul goo,” said both boys simultaneously.

She stared at them for a moment. “How did you get that?”

“Don’t ask,” advised Fred. “But let’s just say that we’re going to have a new housemate from now on.”

“That’s not all of it either,” said George proudly. “We’re saving the rest for Percy.”

Her mouth fell open. “You can’t!” She gasped. “That’s horrible!”

“What’s horrible is ignoring your little sister just because your Slythery friends are so much cooler,” said Fred in a sing-song voice.

Fred took a swig of the pumpkin juice and added, “We’ve noticed your ratio of letters sent to letters received is off.”

“He’s just busy,” Bellatrix said, frowning. “He’ll write back.”

“And if he writes back quickly we may find another use for the goo,” shrugged Fred. “But if there’s anything you’ve learned from today it should be that we’re not going to allow anyone to mistreat our little siblings.”

There was a lump forming in her throat.

George stood up, “Aw Fred, you made her cry!” He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her tight. “Alright then, cry it out!”

Fred followed suit, and wrapped his arms around her other side. “Go on, we won’t tell Ronnie.”

“Tell me what?” Came a muffled voice.

“That you’re a shameless eavesdropper!” Yelled George. To Bellatrix he said, “Go on, let those tears fall.”

She laughed, and shoved them off. “I don’t need to cry, you brainless idiots!”

Fred grabbed at his chest, “She knows the definition of idiot, George. I’m so proud.”

“Alright, take the rest of the food. I have to return the basket before Mum sees that it’s gone.”

They pulled the rest of the food out, but George slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight for a moment.

“We’d write you back, little sister,” he whispered.

She nodded, and returned the basket. A month later, when Percy returned, she pretended to be outraged when he woke up covered in ghoul goo. She listened sympathetically to his rant, but snuck the big twins more sandwiches that night.

A year later, when they went to school, they hastily responded to every one of her letters.


	3. Chapter 3

**_August 31, 1991_ **

Usually when she was sent to Dad’s shed in the garden, it was because she had done something naughty. But as she looked at the lines of Muggle knick knacks on the walls she could not think of what she had done this time.

“Would you like to take a seat?” Her Dad asked. He looked happy enough. The vein in his forehead was smooth, not bulging.

Bellatrix sat down on the workbench, and he conjured a yellow stool to sit on. “Whatever I did, it’s Ginny’s fault,” she said at once. As the youngest, Ginny got away with everything, so it had become a good insurance measure for the elder Weasley children to blame everything on her. “She’s been upset that Ron and I are leaving-“

“Trixie-“ he looked amused, “I’m not here to punish you. I’m here to talk to you.”

“Oh. A half dozen crimes were reshelved in her mind, and she mentally decided to replace Ginny’s favorite stuffed frog after dinner. “Talk about what?” The work table was littered with little rubber animals, and she picked up the crocodile and twirled it between her fingers.

Her Dad smiled fondly at her, and pulled his wand out. “Your Mum’s having this conversation with Ron right now,” he said, twirling the wand slowly. “As we did with all your older brothers, and as we will with Ginny. You are going away to school tomorrow, and I want you to know what it is you’re going to be learning.”

She shifted on the bench, and realized that he was talking to her in the same tone he spoke to Bill. Like she was an adult. Carefully, she set the alligator back down.

“From this moment on you will learn to wield a power that is both wonderful and terrible.” He waved his wand, and a vine sprouted from the tip. It rose, snake-like, and he took it in his hand, where it curled into a ball. “Your Professors will teach you how to perform the spells, but it’s up to you to decide how to wield them.”

Her nose wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he smiled, and took her hand in his warm one, then tipped the vine into her palm. “I could use this same spell to cover a leaky roof, or keep a garden from dying. Or,” he flicked his wand, and the vine grew rapidly, twisting out of her hand and wrapping around her shoulders in a tight wrap, “I could take the entire Ministry hostage and make myself King Weasley.”

“I like the sound of that,” she joked.

Something dark crossed his expression then, and he stood. “This is a serious thing, Trixie.” His voice had never sounded so stern with her. “You will be exposed to hundreds of people, each with their own view on how our magic should be used. I want you to know the gravity of each move you make, each spell you cast.” He stared horribly at her, his face grave and unlike the Dad she knew. It was as if something terrible was wearing his face as a mask. The vine around her shoulders squeezed tighter, making it difficult to breathe.

“Dad!” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and at once the squeezing around her shoulders lessened. Warmth enveloped her, and the smell of her dad’s aftershave tickled her nose.

“There, Trixie, I’ve got you.” He sat on the bench and scooped her into his lap as if she were a child of two and not a half grown girl of eleven.

“I didn’t like that,” She whispered.

His arms were steady around her, “Magic isn’t always nice. Witches and Wizards aren’t always nice. There will always be those who use their abilities to hurt rather than heal.”

“Like You-Know-Who?”

“Exactly, Trix. Which is why you must ask yourself what kind of witch you want to be. You need to think about how you will use the spells and potions you learn about at school, and what affect you will have on the world.”

She sucked in a breath, and absorbed his words. Slowly, his arms fell away, so that he no longer held her, but merely rested a hand against her back.

He cleared his throat, “I want you to write as soon as you’re sorted, and tell us where you are.”

“Percy says I’m going to be sorted into Slytherin,” she said.

The grimace flashed across her father’s face so quickly that she thought later that she’d imagined it. “At least in Slytherin you’ll have your brother,” he said lightly. “But your Mum and I will be proud of you no matter where you end up. We expect you to try your best, and obey the rules. I know you and Ron have a habit of ending up where you don’t belong.” This time his grimace was obvious, and she knew he was thinking of the time she and Ron wound up in Aunt Muriel’s gallery of forbidden portraits. “Please try to behave.”

She broke into a grin, “I’ll _try_.”

He smiled back, and pressed his forehead to hers the way he had when she was younger. It was their special way of saying “I love you.”

“I’d better go finish packing,” Bellatrix said finally, and slid off his lap.

“And Trix?” He said when she moved to go back to the house.

“Yeah?”

His eyes warmed, and a small smile played on his lips. “I’m so proud of you, pet. I couldn’t-“ to her horror, his eyes watered, and his voice grew thick. “I couldn’t ask for a better daughter.”

She walked back, and threw her arms around her father.

Later that night, she lay awake in her bed and watched the dragon figurine Charlie had sent from his internship. It was orange, and it stalked around her bedside table like an angry cat. Under one arm she held Happy, the deer plush that her father had given her years ago. The velvet on his nose was worn off from kisses, and his fur was flattened in spots, but he still made her feel better.

“Trixie?” Ron whispered from across the room.

The blankets rustled as she lifted her head to look at him. “Yeah Ron?”

“I was just thinking that this is our last night together.”

Their parents had said that they would prepare another room for Bellatrix during the school year. They were eleven now, and Aunt Muriel had been pointing out for years that it was hardly appropriate for them to share a room. And they wouldn’t be sharing in Hogwarts so…

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” She whispered back.

His eyes shone in the moonlight. “How will we have our midnight chats?”

“We’ll visit each other.” But suddenly she realized the enormity of the situation. She and Ron had never been separated overnight. Even when Ginny had the Dragon Pox they had shared a room in Aunt Muriel’s mansion on the coast.

He seemed to accept that, and snuggled back into his covers. “We’ll never really be separated, Trixie. Mum says that you carry your twin in your heart. Next to your parents.”

She relaxed into her pillow, and pulled Happy close. Slowly, she drifted to sleep.

XX

"Trixie, that is a wand, not a dagger. Put it in your pocket."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes at the back of her mother's head, and tucked her wand in her robes pocket. It had been Bill's wand, before it was hers, and it felt cool and steady in her hands. Bill had sent it as a birthday present, with a note, "Hopefully it will keep you out of trouble!"

Ron, who had Charlie's old wand, scowled. "Fred and George got their own wands, Mum. Why didn't me'n Trixie?"

"Because Mum loves us more than she loves you," said George. They were walking into King's Cross, and Bellatrix felt butterflies in her stomach as they headed towards Platform 9 3/4. It was finally her turn!

Ron scowled at the back of George's head, and muttered to Bellatrix, "I'm going to learn so many hexes-"

"You will not, Ronald," said Fred from behind them. "Everyone knows you're practically a squib."

"He is not a squib!" Snarled Bellatrix. "He's just as magical as you are. More even!" She caught the disapproving stare of an older woman and crimsoned.

“Oh, lookie George, we embarrassed her.” Cooed Fred.

“You did not,” she muttered.

“Yeah!” Added Ron, helpfully. He linked his arm through Bellatrix’s, and whispered to her, “You’ll see, we’ll be so good at magic that the Headmaster’ll give us an award!”

Percy came up behind them and said, “I hope you won’t let them get you into trouble at school. You need to learn to control your temper. Especially if you’re in Slytherin.”

Ron, who overheard, frowned. Over the summer Percy had been very vocal about where he thought the younger twins would be sorted, and Ron was adamant that they would not be split up. He looked at Percy and said, “Everyone knows that twins get sent to the same place! Just look at Fred and George!”

“We’re better twins than you are,” said George.

“Are not!” Screeched Bellatrix. She winced as Percy laid a cool hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Temper!”

Ginny pulled away from their mother and twined her hand through Bellatrix’s. “Can’t you smuggle me in your trunk?” she whispered.

Grateful for a break from the older twins, Bellatrix grinned at her younger sister and swung their hands back and forth. “No,” she said, “You have to wait.”

“But I don’t want to be the only one home!” whined Ginny. “I want to go with you!” Her lower lip wobbled. “It’s not fair!”

“You don’t think anything is fair,” Bellatrix reminded her little sister.

Ginny pouted, and jerked her hand from Bellatrix’s as if the elder had burned her. “Percy, wait!” She ran up to Percy and began whispering, no doubt asking the same questions she asked Bellatrix.

“It will be nice to get away from _that_ ,” said Ron. To Bellatrix, he asked, “Can I hold Scabbers for a while?”

When Percy had been gifted his own owl (with money that might have gone towards a new wand for one of the smaller twins) he had magnanimously bestowed the custody of his rat, Scabbers, to the younger twins. Bellatrix, slightly annoyed at having to share, pulled the rodent from her pocket and shoved him into Ron’s hand.

“Thanks!” Ron pet the rat gently, and then stuffed him into his own pocket.

It was then that Bellatrix heard a clatter, and saw a cage with a beautiful snowy white owl bounce by her own trolley.

“Finder’s Keepers,” she muttered, right as a scrawny boy chased after and scooped the cage back onto his trunk.

“You really should take better care,” Bellatrix told him. “Owls don’t like to be jostled about.” She was quoting something Percy had said earlier that summer, and she hoped that she sounded authoritative.

“Er,” The boy stared at her with the greenest eyes Bellatrix had ever seen. “Do you know about-“

“About owls?” She supplied, pleased that the boy seemed to be following her. “Oh yes, our family has two. Well not two exactly, one is my brother Percy’s, but we have Errol.”

The boy frowned, “That’s nice. But I was actually wondering if you knew anything about Platform 9 and three quarters?”

Bellatrix opened her mouth to say yes, she absolutely knew about platform nine and three quarters, when her mother did a head count, and realized they had gained an extra child.

“Oh, you poor dear! Have you lost your parents?” Bellatrix’s mother practically shoved her daughter out of the way in effort to get closer to the ragged child. “No? You’re alone!”

Ron and Bellatrix shared a look behind their mother’s back. Ahead of them, Percy and Fred and George ran through the barrier with Ginny in tow.

“You need to get to the platform! Oh yes dear, we can show you how. My eldest have- oh where did the boys go?”

“Ahead,” said Ron.

“Oh nevermind that, Trixie will show you, won’t you?”   
  


Pleased at having been singled out, Bellatrix straightened her shoulders and walked calmly through the barrier. Her older brothers and Ginny waved to her from beside the train, and she joined them.

A moment later the rest of her family caught up, the scrawny boy in tow.

“Sit with him, Trixie,” her mother whispered. “He doesn’t know anyone.”

She had already decided to do just that, but she allowed her mother to lead her, Ron, and the boy to an empty compartment, and smiled as she fussed over them.

As usual, her mother’s eyes filled with tears as she kissed them goodbye, and Bellatrix threw her arms around her mum and kissed her on the cheek. “Say bye to Dad for me?” She whispered.

Her Mum gave her an extra kiss, “I promise.”

XX

“It’s a hat!” Bellatrix whispered to Ron. The other first years twittered around them, and the boy- Harry Potter!- looked relieved.

Ron’s nose scrunched up, “But I thought we had to wrestle a Troll?“

“Oh, honestly!” Said the bossy girl from the train. “A school wouldn’t make us do something so dangerous.”

Bellatrix, who had believed Fred and George, felt her cheeks warm. “What would you know about it?” She demanded.

The bushy haired girl straightened her slim shoulders and said in a haughty tone, “I’ve read _Hogwarts, a History_ multiple times, and the board of directors-“

“Silence!” Whispered the Deputy Headmistress. The sorting hat had begun to sing, and Bellatrix listened with wide eyes as McGonagall rearranged them into alphabetic order.

Ahead of her, Harry glanced back, and smiled. She grinned in return. Instinctively, her hand sought Ron’s, and he squeezed tightly and whispered, “I hope we end up together!”

The first girl was called up, and Ron shifted beside her. Bellatrix wished she were at the front of the line so she could get it over with. From across the Hall, she could feel Percy’s eyes on her. He sat straight-backed in the middle of the table, an empty spot beside him.

The bossy girl, Hermione Granger, was sorted into Gryffindor, and so was Neville. Malfoy, who had insulted her family, was sorted into Slytherin, and Harry-

The hat took quite a bit of time with Harry. But then it shouted “Gryffindor!” And her older brothers cheered louder than anyone.

“We’ll still be friends if you’re sorted into Slytherin, won’t we?” Whispered Ron.

Behind them, Blaise Zabini sighed, and craned his neck so he could see around them.

She squeezed her twin’s hand, and said “Of course. You’re my twin. We’ll be friends forever!”

He breathed out, but he still looked a little pale. It made him look more freckled than ever.

“Weasley, Bellatrix!”

Bellatrix jumped, and forced her legs to take her across the front of the hall. She saw Percy give her knowing smile, and then he disappeared as the hat fell over her head.

_Ahhhhh,_ said a voice in her ear, _well, this is a treat. Another Weasley, but not as boisterous as the last ones. You’ve got a bit of the seriousness left over. And the temper! I can see it brewing…Where to put you, where to put you._

_Percy says I belong in Slytherin,_ Bellatrix thought. She paid no attention to the “left over” part. Who knew what nonsense hats thought about?

_He would! Very goal oriented, that one. I see plenty of ambition, yes, and shrewdness. But I don’t think you would thrive in the house of the snakes. I see a love of learning too! Oh, I do! But not enough to put you with the ravens… You would do well in Hufflepuff. But I think you would really thrive in-_

“Gryffindor!”

The hat was yanked off her head, and she stared, wide eyed, at Percy. A frown marred his face, and he didn’t join the applause.

“Go on, Miss Weasley,” said McGonagall kindly. She gave the girl a little push.

If Percy wasn’t happy, the older twins made up for it in spades. Fred smacked his hands on the table in rapid stacchato so that the cups and plates leapt up and down, and George wrapped an arm around her and hollered, “House of the Weasel!”

“You can sit with us, baby sister,” said Fred, and Bellatrix forgot to be worried about Percy. She grinned, and slid beside her brother.

When the hat screamed “Gryffindor!” for Ron, all three of the seated Weaselys screamed in pleasure. Ron sat beside her, pink faced with shining eyes, and Bellatrix felt instinctively that everything was good. They sat across from Harry Potter, and the three of them exchanged broad grins throughout the feast.

**_October 31, 1991_ **

For years Bellatrix would be ashamed for what she said to Hermione that day. To her credit, she was already angry that Flitwick had deducted 5 points from her for forgetting to turn in her assignment. She was further embarrassed by the fact that Ron could not make his feather levitate. It was as if he held an ordinary piece of wood rather than a magic wand. He had stared blankly at Hermione when the bossy girl told him how to pronounce the charm correctly. Then he had turned bright pink, and muttered something about practicing on his own. 

"You don't need to practice on your own," she said to Ron as they exited the classroom. Harry, who had made his feather float high, looked sheepish as he walked beside them. "You just need to have more confidence." 

"I have confidence," muttered Ron. He kicked at something invisible on the ground. 

A high voice chimed in. "I don't think you have _enough_ confidence, Ron. You need to tell yourself you can make the feather float, and it will float." 

Bellatrix whirled around so quickly that her heavy braid hit her in the face. "Who asked you?" She demanded. 

Hermione's eyes went round as saucers, and then she frowned. "I'm only trying to help Ron," she pointed out. 

"No one wants help from a bossy little know-it-all who didn't even know what Magic was a year and a half ago!" Spat Bellatrix. "Why don't you do us all a favor and run back to the Muggles?" 

As soon as she said it she regretted it. Ron sucked in a breath behind her, and she watched Hermione's eyes fill with tears. With a strangled sob the brunette pushed past her and ran down the corridor. 

A funny feeling filled Bellatrix's stomach. "Come on," she said to the boys. "Let's go." 

Hermione was missing for the rest of the day, and even the older twins noticed. 

"Where's the bookworm?" Asked Fred. 

“I heard she was crying in one of the toilets near the potions classroom,” said Lavender, pulling a plate of sweets nearer to herself.

Ron, who had a mouth full of steak and kidney pie, looked pointedly at her.

“I don’t know!” She shifted in her seat, and stirred her fork around her plate.

Harry cleared his throat. “I’m sure she’s fine,” he said hopefully. “Though you were a little harsh.”

It felt worse to have her friend point it out. “Well, perhaps… perhaps I’ll tell her I’m sorry.”

Harry perked up, and Ron nodded enthusiastically. Bellatrix tried not to glower at them. Beside her, Fred frowned. For once her older brother looked serious.

“I hope you didn’t say anything too unkind, Trixie Trix,” he said slowly. Lee said something from his other side, and Bellatrix turned back to her twin and Harry, appetite gone.

“Maybe I’ll apologize tonight,” she set her fork down and took a swig of pumpkin juice. It tasted too sweet.

“She’ll forgive you,” Harry said. Ron nodded again as he shoved a forkful of broccoli into his mouth.

Just When Bellatrix was about to put a bite of pie in her mouth, the doors to the Great Hall burst open and Quirrel stormed in. His face was white as he shouted-

“Troll! In the dungeon!”

Immediately, the Prefects jumped into action. The one nearest Bellatrix corralled the younger Gryffindors into a crowd, and began herding them towards the door.

Bellatrix pulled Harry and Ron close as they squeezed through the door and hissed, “Hermione’s supposed to be in the dungeon!”

Harry stared back at her, and he nodded. “We have to go after her.”

“But the Prefects!” Said Ron. He gestured pointedly to the front of the crowd.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, “There are so many of us that they won’t notice. Come on!” She weaved through the Hufflepuffs, and hoped the boys would follow. When she darted down the passage they took to Potions, she was relieved to hear footsteps behind her.

“We’ll just duck in, find Hermione, and take her back!” Bellatrix moved so quickly that she was short of breath. “It’s down here, look-“

“Did Hermione do that?” Ron asked as the three of them stopped short.

The passage was full of water, and a loud clanking noise came from the toilet.

“Maybe we should get a teacher.” Harry pulled his wand out, but looked ready to go for help.

Bellatrix was never known for thinking things through. She whipped out Bill’s wand, and took a deep breath. “There’s no time! We have to help her!”

Just as she said that, a loud scream pierced the air. Shaken, she plunged into the room.

Water and bits of pipe lay everywhere. The troll was massive. He was so tall that his greenish-grey head brushed the ceiling, and his club swung through the air. Bellatrix scanned the room, and spotted Hermione under the sinks.

“Hermione!” she yelled just as the troll swung his club down. Luckily, it pulverized the sink next to Hermione.

“Hey!” She screamed. “Hey, leave her alone!”

The troll looked around, a confused expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” Gasped Hermione.

Bellatrix shot her a look. “We’re saving you!” She stepped back as the troll rounded on her, “Er…”

There was a flash of black as Harry hurled himself onto the troll’s back. He cried out, and shoved his wand up the Troll’s nose.

Bellatrix stooped and picked up the shattered pieces of sink. One by one she hurled them at the troll’s chest, so that he kept his attention on her instead of Harry.

Eventually, it was Ron who saved the day. He brandished his wand and screamed, “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!”

Bellatrix watched as the club hurled upwards, and then dropped with a hollow _thud_ onto the troll’s head.

“Argh!” Harry was flung off the Troll, and he landed heavily on top of Bellatrix. She hit the ground heavily, and felt her wrist pop with a sickening snap.

“Bellatrix!” Ron shoved Harry off her, and Bellatrix yelped as he tried to pull her up by her hurt wrist.

“You’re hurting her, Ron!” For once Bellatrix was grateful for Hermione’s ability to take charge. She stuck her hands under Bellatrix’s arms and heaved her to her feet. To Bellatrix she whispered, “Are you ok?”

Her wrist hurt terribly, but she forced a grin. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

A shrill voice said, “What is the meaning of this?”

All four children froze as Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape entered the room. To Bellatrix’s surprise, Hermione stuck up for them, and McGonagall awarded her points!

She missed the look on her Housemate’s faces though, as Professor Snape escorted her to the Hospital Wing. The Potions Master looked disgustedly down his nose at her, and muttered something about expelling disobedient children.

“Don’t mind him,” said Madam Pomfrey as she spread a blue potion over Bellatrix’s wrist. The pain disappeared in a wave of cold, and Madam Pomfrey made her swallow another potion.

“Thank you,” Bellatrix said as she headed back towards her house. Only a few students remained in the common room, so Bellatrix made her way upstairs.

Hermione sat on her bed, but jumped up as soon as Bellatrix entered the room. “We thought you’d have to stay overnight!” She said excitedly. “I suppose bone mending spells are really quite simple though if you’re a trained Healer.”

Bellatrix smiled, “It was only sprained.”

“That’s so much better!” Hermione looked over to where Parvati and Lavender were painting their nails and whispered. “I wanted to thank you. You really didn’t have to come save me, but I’m so glad you did. If you and the boys hadn’t been there-“

“I’m sure the teachers would have come soon,” Bellatrix cut her off, and felt her cheeks grow pink. “Listen, Hermione. I wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

“Oh!” Now Hermione’s face flushed, “Thank you.”

“I don’t want you to go back to the muggles,” added Bellatrix quickly. For some reason, she felt closer to Hermione. “And I’d like for us to be friends… If you want to.”

A slow smile spread over Hermione’s face. “I’d like that Bellatrix.”

Bellatrix grinned, and sat back on her bed to watch Hermione and Lavender switch beds. It turned out that Lavender wanted to be closer to Parvati anyway.

And that night, as she listened to Hermione’s soft breaths, she reflected that it was almost like being back home with Ron.

Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas, 1991

Hermione was the only person who called Bellatrix by her full name, and Bellatrix didn’t know if she loved her or hated her for it. 

She had become fast friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, and Ron was always with them as well. Ron claimed that he was really Harry’s best friend, but Bellatrix cornered Harry on Christmas Eve and made him tell her who he liked more, her or Ron. The spectacled boy had gawped and said, “You know I can’t choose.” 

She didn’t know whether or not to feel good or bad about that. 

It was her first Christmas without her family around her, and Bellatrix tried to ignore the lump in her throat when she awoke to a pile of gifts at the end of her bed. The brightly wrapped parcels glimmered in the faint candlelight, and she hastily threw on her faded housecoat and stepped into her slippers. Gathering her presents, she padded over to the boy’s dormitory. 

Typically, the boys were both asleep. She settled herself on the rug between their beds and shook Ron’s shoulder. “Ron!” she whispered. 

Slowly, her twin woke up, and smiled blearily up at her. Then his eyes widened. “What’re you doing in here?” 

She rolled her eyes, “It’s Christmas, feather brain!” 

“Christmas!” In a smooth motion Ron tossed his covers back and sat up. “Presents! Harry, wake up!” 

There was a sleepy groan from beside them, and Harry muttered, “G’Morn.” 

“It’s Christmas, Harry!” Bellatrix shouted, pulling his blanket off. His presents fell in a shiny avalanche, and she giggled. “Sorry!” 

“What are those?” Asked Harry. He crammed his glasses onto his nose and peered over the side of his mattress. 

She laughed again, “Your presents,” carefully she gathered his gifts up and set them back on his bed. 

“For me?” 

She and Ron exchanged glanced. Then Ron laughed, “Yeah, mate. They’re all yours. I think our Mum sent something for you too.” 

They didn’t elaborate that they had both heavily implied that Harry’s relatives had mistreated him in their letters home. 

“I wonder what Bill sent me!” Ron broke into his presents, “Aw, yeah!” 

Bellatrix smiled, and ripped the paper off hers as well. There was a purple sweater from her mother, with a silver “T” on it. Little dragons were stitched around the collar and cuffs, and she grinned at them. Then there was a hood from her dad, in cherry red, a pair of gloves from Charlie, a new book bag from Bill with a purple gryphon stamped across the front. “It’s spelled so that only you can open it” said a note in Bill’s handwriting. There was a set of singing handkerchiefs from George, and a quill that wrote essays from Fred, and a Chudley Cannons poster from Ron. Ginny had sent her a handmade mug that was painted purple, and Percy had sent a pair of hair ribbons with a formal note that wished her a “Year of New Beginnings.” She frowned at it, and pushed it aside to open Hermione’s present next. 

Hermione had sent her a beautiful new quill. The nib was silver, and the feather a deep green. She also sent a stamp for Bellatrix’s letters, which had an elegant “B” engraved on it. Bellatrix ran her fingers over the curves of the B and grinned. 

Harry had given her a large cache of sweets, and she had given everyone long scarves. It had taken her months to knit them all. 

They ran into Fred and George on the way to the Common Room, and the five of them agreed to have a snowball fight on the grounds, the three first years against the big twins and Lee Jordan. Predictably, the older boys won, but they were gracious about it. 

“Very good aim, little sister,” said Fred. “Perhaps you should try out for Keeper.” 

“You’ll need a little work,” said George, holding the door open for her. “But who among us doesn’t?” 

Bellatrix noted that they both wore the scarves she had made them, and said nothing. 

They had a good dinner with the rest of the castle, and she spent the rest of the night curled up next to Ron as they wrote thank you notes to everyone. She had already received a letter from Hermione about her holiday so far, and Bellatrix decided to tell her, in full detail, about how treacherous their snowball fight with the big twins had been. 

XX

“Will you come see the mirror too, Trixie?” Asked Harry. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, and his eyes sparkled with happiness. “I want you to see them!” 

“Of course I will!” She said. “We both will.” 

With a dubious look, Ron said, “I don’t know…” 

Harry licked his lips. “Please Ron? I promise it’s not far!” 

“it’ll be an adventure!” Pleaded Bellatrix. 

Looking between them, Ron sighed. “Fine.” 

It really was a shorter walk then Bellatrix was expecting, and it was fun to be under the Invisibility Cloak. She waved to the portraits as they passed, until Ron grabbed her hand and moaned, “Don’t!”   
But when Ron stepped in front of the mirror he gasped. “What is this thing?”   
“Do you see them?” Asked Harry excitedly. “They’re right there!”   
Ron stared back at the mirror, and slowly shook his head. “I see… Me’n Trixie,” he said slowly. “I’m Head Boy and she’s Head Girl, and I’m Quidditch Captain! And Mum and Dad are there, and they look so happy! And I’m getting an award!”   
Harry frowned, “That’s not what I see,” he said slowly. “Trixie, come and look. What do you see?”   
Bellatrix moved up to the mirror, and swallowed. “I see the whole family.” It was true. The whole Weasley brood stood shoulder to shoulder, only there was something about them- they were dressed better. Her dad was dressed in the robes that she had seen Mr. Malfoy in, and her Mum was dressed stylishly. Her dad was Minister of Magic! And her own robes were new and well-made. They looked rich and well cared for. Her chest lurched, and she felt her cheeks glow pink. Percy stared at her with pride, a Gryffindor badge on his chest.   
She stepped away from the mirror, until the image faded and all that remained was Harry’s confused face, and Ron’s bewildered one next to hers.   
“I don’t think we’re supposed to know this is here,” she said slowly. “I don’t know why, but I don’t like it.”   
“Yeah,” said Ron, and his hand found it’s way to hers. He squeezed briefly before letting go. “It’s not real.”   
“But it could be,” said Harry. He looked so sad that Bellatrix threw her arms around him.   
“We’re your family now too,” said Ron behind her.   
Gently, Harry hugged her back.  
Spring 1992

It was Ron's idea to send the dragon to Charlie, and Bellatrix was simultaneously impressed and crushed. 

"I wanted to ride a dragon," she groused one lunchtime as Hermione poured over a book called "A Who's Who of Magical Europe." 

"You can't really ride a dragon, can you?" Asked Harry from across the table. He had his potion's essay propped against a jug of pumpkin juice, and was scowling at the notes Professor Snape had slashed across it. 

"Don't be silly Harry," said Hermione without looking up. "It would be incredibly dangerous." 

Bellatrix felt her brows sink even lower. "There's nothing gained from playing it safe," she growled. "Besides, Hermione. You don't understand what it's like to fly. Harry does." She turned to the boy and grinned. "Can't you imagine it? Flying high over castle with the world's most dangerous beast below- ow!" She yelped as something heavy hit her on the head. The offending item bounced to the table, and her twin snickered as he slid in beside her. 

"Did you have to do that?" She demanded, rubbing her head. She was going to have a lump the size of a goose egg. "What is it, anyway?" 

"Dragon hide gloves for each of us. Charlie says it's the only way to prevent burns. And these are the really good ones that they use at the preserve." said Ron. With a sheepish grin he added, "And a few apples from the tree outside Charlie's house. He says they taste better than anything." 

“Well, this will go off without a hitch!” Bellatrix said happily. 

It didn’t. 

Bellatrix had nightmares for weeks afterwards about running through the forest with an unseen beast chasing her. At home, she would have had Ron beside her, making her feel braver at night. At Hogwarts, she was alone. 

Well, not alone really. She woke up one night with a gasp, and shot straight up. 

Scabbers squeaked from his little nest on her nightstand, and clambered over to her. He was a heavy, reassuring weight on her shoulder, and she felt herself calm as he groomed himself on her shoulder.   
“Bellatrix?” Hermione whispered. 

Bellatrix stiffened, and tried to keep her voice from shaking, “Yeah?” 

Through her curls, she saw the pink of Hermione’s pajamas, and then the bed dipped beside her as Hermione sat on her bed. “You had another nightmare.” 

“Oh? It’s so strange, it almost never happens.” 

“It does,” said Hermione firmly. “It’s been happening ever since your detention.”

Bellatrix shivered, and thought of the glimmering eyes and dripping unicorn blood. Hermione hadn’t seen, she had been with Malfoy and Hagrid. But she and Harry and Neville had seen. Shame shot through her. She was certain the boys weren’t having nightmares. 

“It’s not your fault,” whispered Hermione. She reached out, and sent her hand on Bellatrix’s. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Bellatrix shook her head so quickly that her black curls stung her cheeks. 

“Ok,” said Hermione slowly. “Then how about I read to you-“

“I’m not a baby!” Snapped Bellatrix. 

“I know that!” Hermione winced, and looked around. Lavender’s snores wen on unchecked. Calmer, Hermione said, “I know. But it’s what my dad does to help me sleep. I thought it might help.” 

Bellatrix thought about it, and slowly nodded. “Ok.” 

Hermione left, and returned a moment later with a battered book and her candle. “Scoot over,” she commanded, sliding under the covers. 

Bellatrix did as she was told, and laid her head on her pillow. 

Hermione cleared her throat, and her rich voice began, “The first place that I can well remember…” 

Hermione gently read about a young horse and his bringing up. Bellatrix had never heard the story before, but slowly, under Hermione’s smooth voice, she fell into a dreamless sleep. 

Early Summer 1992 

Voldemort was back! Or at least he had been. Bellatrix had gotten through the obstacle course with little more than a few scrapes to show for it. Ron had broken an arm, and had been fussed over by the majority of the female population of Gryffindor House. She, Hermione, and Ron had given their account of what had happened after the trapdoor to Professor McGonagall, and then- to Hermione’s horror- the Headmaster had been called. He listened to what they said with quiet gravity, and then he had stood and left immediately. 

When Harry awoke, and had told them what had happened with Quirrell, Bellatrix and Ron had cast horrified looks at each other throughout. Remnants of the war were everywhere, in every family. They couldn’t possibly face another Wizarding War! 

“What are we going to do?” Ron asked after Madam Pomfrey had shooed them out. 

Bellatrix looked back at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?” 

Ron stepped over to the side of the corridor, and she and Hermione followed. 

“I mean that if You-Know-Who is back, that means Harry is going to be a target.” He said slowly. “And everyone around him will be too.” 

Hermione understood him first. “We’ll be targets, you mean.” 

He nodded. “I just wanted to make sure we’re all ok with this.” 

Bellatrix knew at once. “I am. He’s family now, Ron.”

“I know that! I just wanted to make sure you knew it too. Hermione?” 

Hermione stared wide-eyed back at him for a moment, and then determination filled her eyes. “Of course. Harry’s my family too. And family protects their own.” 

Ron put his hand between them. “Then we’re in agreement? We need to protect Harry?” 

Bellatrix put her hand on his, and grinned when Hermione’s pressed against her. “We’ll protect Harry.” 

“To the end,” said Hermione solemnly. 

And unknown to the trio, a fourth person watched with a pleased smile. A headmaster, who didn’t need a cloak to turn invisible.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Summer 1992_ **

The Hogwarts Express was a gloomy ride home. Harry became more withdrawn the closer they got to London, and Hermione kept sniffling and saying “It’s really not that long if you think about it.” Bellatrix and Ron tried to keep the conversation light, but it was difficult when their friends were so melancholy.

An unpleasant visitor sought them out halfway through the ride. Draco Malfoy threw open their compartment door and sneered. “Gone back to live with the Muggles, Potter? I hope you won’t miss civilized company while you’re there.”

“Shut up Malfoy,” growled Ron.

Malfoy lifted his nose, “I bet you wish you could go with him, eh Weasley? Everyone knows your family could use less mouths to feed. I bet my House Elf is richer than you are.”

Bellatrix scowled, and started to draw her wand. Her brother’s hand stopped her, and Ron gently shook his head.

Hermione stood, and drew herself to her full height. “Leave, Malfoy, before I call the prefects!”

“Try to remember your schooling, Granger. It would be a shame if you reverted back into a primitive-“

“Leave now!” Shrilled Hermione.

A few doors opened, and an older student cried out, “What’s going on down there?” Malfoy gave them all another smirk, and left.

“Ignore him,” Hermione said, sliding in beside Bellatrix. They all ignored the glossiness of her eyes.

They all hugged tightly before getting off the train.

“It’s really not that long,” Hermione said, unable to stop the tears. Harry seemed unable to speak, but he gave them all a tight smile.

“Write,” Bellatrix whispered to him, “and we will too.”

Her mother’s smile was brilliant when she pushed forward to embrace them as they got off the train. Bellatrix inhaled the familiar smell of fresh baked bread and Scaldwater’s laundry soap, and felt a little guilty as she realized how much she had missed her Mum and Dad.

Their Dad brought home a large bag of sweets, and Ginny whined for attention as he listened to a detailed account of the small twins’ first year. Bellatrix and Ron sat shoulder to shoulder and spoke excitedly.

Every once in a while, their Mum would interject something like, “You really should have asked a teacher, Trixie!” or, “Poor dears!”

Dinner tasted better than anything the Hogwarts kitchens could produce.

Bellatrix lay in bed that night, thinking of Malfoy’s words. Her new room was shoved above Ron’s, beside the attic. It was painted a lovely lavender color, and left at that so Bellatrix could personalize it over the summer. It was everything she had ever dreamed in a room of her own, but she missed having another person near. It left too much room for contemplation.

Her father lacked the desire to become Minister, but that didn't mean that they couldn't be a little richer than they were. Bellatrix frowned, and pulled Happy to her chest. There had to be a way to improve their fortunes without involving Percy's snobbish techniques. 

As it turned out, her answer came the next morning in the form of a shriveled crone who smelled like dead roses. 

"What's going on?" Bellatrix asked as she neared the bottom of the stairs. The big twins, Ron, and Ginny were crowded on the last few steps. "Go on!" 

"We can't," Ron looked paler than usual. "It's... Aunt Muriel!" 

"Aunt Muriel!" Bellatrix gasped. "What's she doing here?" They only ever saw their Aunt at Christmas, and even then they were asked to stay as far away from her as possible.

Fred snickered, "We reckon the old bat wants to adopt Percy." He had his eye pressed to the crack in the kitchen door. 

"It would make his dreams come true," added George. "Is he still sitting there?" 

"Like a toad in a fly shop," groaned Fred. 

"I don't see why we can't all go in," whined Ginny. Her hair was a rat's nest, and her bottom lip was protruding in a way that suggested she was about to start crying. "Percy's out there!" 

"Go ahead!" Fred threw the door open and stepped back. 

"Children?" their mother's voice made all five stiffen. George waved at Ginny to go forward, and the youngest Weasley squealed and jumped back a step. 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "For Merlin's sake! It's only Aunt Muriel." 

Fred grinned at her, "Then you go ahead." 

There was nothing Bellatrix wanted less, but she lifted her chin. "I will." 

With every inch of dignity she possessed, Bellatrix marched down the remaining steps and into the kitchen. As Fred said, Aunt Muriel sat imperiously at the rickety kitchen table. Percy sat on one side, looking expectant and smug, and her father sat on the other with the Daily Prophet open in front of him. He gave her a kind smile, but it was her mother who launched forward from the stove and seized her eldest daughter. 

"Trixie! Sit down, sweetie. We were just going to fetch you." 

"Trixie?" sputtered Percy. He gave her a withering glance. "Surely-" 

"Aunt Muriel came all the way from Withering Grange to see you," continued her mother without noticing Percy's baffled stare. 

"I had hoped I would find you improved after your year at school," said Aunt Muriel with a condemning look at Bellatrix's nightgown, "but that's precisely why I'm here." 

"Have a seat, Trix," said her dad. He loaded a plate with bacon and eggs, and passed it to her. "Here's your breakfast." 

Her mother sat down too, and Bellatrix was acutely aware that her brothers and Ginny could hear everything. She fought the urge to turn around and look at Fred. 

"Bellatrix," said Aunt Muriel, sitting up straighter. "It has come to my attention that I am alone. As a widower with no children, I find myself regretting that I have not had the chance to bring up a child." 

There were hushed sniggers from behind her, and her mum stiffened beside her. "What did you have in mind, Aunt Muriel?" Her mum said. She took Bellatrix's hand. 

Aunt Muriel sniffed at her tea, and took a drink. "Too much milk," she tutted, setting the cup back down. "You know that I've got no patience for the knee high ragamuffins or the snot nosed little-" she cringed, and then straightened her robes. "But I've been thinking that a nice school-aged child might bring me some comfort. It would have to be family, naturally, and because of poor Fabian and Gideon-" 

Her mother flinched, and her hold on Bellatrix tightened. Aunt Muriel did not notice. 

"-that leaves you, Molly. I want a girl, I've seen enough of your unruly brood to know that the boys are useless to me." 

Here Percy colored, and scowled at Bellatrix. She frowned back at him. 

"And the youngest one has too much Weasley in her. Entirely too much! But I was remembering this one." She tapped a translucent finger on the table in Bellatrix's direction. "I think maybe her coloring comes from the Prewett side after all. My younger sister, remember her well, had similar coloring, and she was a Gryffindor as well." 

"We can't just give you Trixie," said her dad. He had set the Prophet aside, and looked more serious than ever. 

Aunt Muriel scoffed, "Did I ask you to give her to me? No, I don't want full custody of a child!" Her outraged face was so comical that Bellatrix bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "No, I just want a share in bringing her up! I want to sponsor her. Give her to me for the mornings. Say, seven thirty to noon. Only Monday through Friday, mind! I have my cards with the gals on Saturday, and my society functions on Sunday. But I think the mornings will give me enough time to turn her into a proper young lady. In return I'll outfit her with robes and supplies for the school year, and I'll attend to any further expenses that she may incur." 

Percy sucked in a breath, but otherwise the room was silent. Her parents cast glances at each other across the table, and Aunt Muriel sat back and looked awfully proud of herself. Sponsoring was an older custom in which a childless relative could have some input in a child's life and upbringing, usually in the form of providing school supplies and leaving the child a portion (or all) of their estate. Judging by Percy’s expression, he had hoped to be the one their aunt sponsored.

Having help with supplies and such would be a tremendous help, Bellatrix knew. And perhaps that was why her mother turned to her and said, lightly-

"It's up to you dear. Your father and I have discussed it, and we'll let you decide." 

Aunt Muriel smacked her cane on the ground. "I'll give you all the privileges and opportunities that my own child would have had." 

Bellatrix licked her lips. An idea sprang to mind. "Will you- will you outfit Ron too? With clothes and such?" 

"Trixie!" Her mother's cheeks burned crimson, but Aunt Muriel cackled. 

"I like a child that knows what she wants. Yes, girl. I'll take care of your twin brother as well. Not to sponsor!" She added, “I only want a girl, but I can clothe him easily enough.”

Bellatrix grinned broadly at the old woman. Ron would be so pleased! And they would be one step closer to the vision she had seen in the Mirror. 

"Run along now and fetch your brothers and Ginny while we talk," said her mum. "You too, Percy dear." 

Percy stood stiffly. He yanked the door to the stairway open, nearly unseating Fred, and stormed past their siblings. 

"Percy, wait!" Bellatrix whispered. She was aware that if she was too loud her parents would know that her siblings had eavesdropped on the conversation. They probably would be more exasperated than angry, but she didn't know how Aunt Muriel would take it. "It's not my fault!" 

"Oh it's never your fault is it?" Percy demanded, whirling to face her. His eyes were like chips of ice, and his face was twisted into a scowl. 

Bellatrix inhaled sharply, and took a step back. 

Percy towered over you. "You don't want to separate yourself from them, and yet you get all the opportunity. All the glory. It should be me that Aunt Muriel sponsors, not you! It should be me you ask Aunt Muriel to help, not Ron! I'm the one who wants to be something more, but it's you who gets everything!" 

"Stop it," said Fred firmly. He and George pushed past Bellatrix to situate themselves between her and Percy. George put a comforting hand on Bellatrix's shoulder. 

"It has nothing to do with Trixie," George said, "You know how Aunt Muriel is prone to whims." 

Percy scoffed, and Fred squared his shoulders. 

"I think you should go cool off, Perce. You got what you wanted. You're the first Slytherin Weasley in generations. Isn't that different enough for you?" 

Percy gave Fred a scathing look, but turned around and stomped up the stairs. A moment later his bedroom door slammed. 

"Don't pay him any mind," said George, squeezing her shoulder. "You've done nothing wrong." 

Bellatrix was silent for the rest of the day, despite the older twins' and Ron's attempts to cheer her up. She welcomed the distraction that Aunt Muriel's home brought her. 

Aunt Muriel's Withering Grange was a large manor house situated on the coast. The beach was charmed to repel muggles, and the home was filled with priceless dusty antiques and heirlooms. 

Bellatrix wasn’t allowed to touch any of it.

"First things first," said Aunt Muriel, casting a watery eye at Bellatrix. "Deportment and etiquette." 

And so Bellatrix was introduced to the _Pettiwhite's_ _Young Witch's Guide_ series. Aunt Muriel gifted her with a stack of them, each one heavier than the last. 

"Now I want you to read each and every one of those and take them to heart!" Aunt Muriel demanded. "You can start with the first. Let's go into the Pink Room and you can read it aloud while I work on my stitchery." 

And so Bellatrix began her life as Aunt Muriel's sponsee. Most mornings she read to Aunt Muriel for hours while the old woman embroidered, or scrapbooked. Pettiwhite was more interesting than not, and most of the rules he came up with were outdated, such as: 

_Always keep a handkerchief half tucked into your sleeve. This will provide ready comfort to one who has recently lost a loved one, and in times of trouble you can drop it to the ground and expect a well mannered young wizard to come to your rescue._

To Bellatrix's surprise, Aunt Muriel presented her with a stack of 20 daintily embroidered handkerchiefs after this. 

"It's never too early to start courting," she said, sniffing. "Merlin knows I might have had more luck had I started before my fourteenth year." 

Ron wasn't allowed to come on their shopping trip. 

"I won't niffler around with boys," huffed Aunt Muriel as she wrapped an enormous pink fuzzy cowl around her neck. "I've got his measurements from your Mother, though I don't know for sure if it's his. I don't think she can keep track of all those boys. I certainly couldn't!" 

Bellatrix, who had learned long ago to let Aunt Muriel's comments go, smiled serenely and followed her aunt into the Floo. 

They emerged in the finer district of Diagon Alley, called The Top. It was a series of rooftops connected by ever shifting bridges. Bellatrix caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled at herself. Today her clothes would be not only first hand, but fop line. 

"Bellatrix Celeste!" 

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, and caught up with her surprisingly quick aunt. Aunt Muriel insisted on calling her by her first and middle name. She had raised her eyebrows when she found out that Bellatrix had been named for her Mum's friend from school- a Beauxbatons exchange student- but had sniffed and said at least it wasn't a _Weasley_ name like Bilius. 

"Anthony!" Aunt Muriel snapped as they strode into a shop smelling of coffee and vanilla. "I need some robes made for my niece- proper clothes, mind you. Just look at what she's wearing!" 

The man in question trailed his eyes down Bellatrix's patched robes, and landed on a tear by her knee. "Oh dear." 

"These are some of her best ones, too," said Aunt Muriel. "You should see the rest of the family. And I want you to do what you can with this-" she thrust the paper with Ron's measurements under Anthony's nose. "It's for her twin. He's in a worse state, I'm afraid." 

Bellatrix could barely glance at one of the stuffed dogs in the window before Anthony had her up on a hat box with swirls of fabric surrounding her. 

"I take it you want more than just her school robes?" The plump little man asked. 

Aunt Muriel nodded. "She needs at least five day robes. Her mother lets her run about in _muggle clothes_. Not that there's anything wrong with it for children, but a young witch of twelve should be properly outfitted." 

"I agree completely!" Squealed Anthony, and he leaned closer to Bellatrix. "What's your favorite color?" 

The fabric around her middle was squeezing very tightly, but Bellatrix gasped out, "Purple!" 

Anthony winked, "Good answer. How do you feel about green too?" When she nodded he grinned, and dictated notes to his quill. 

Next, they bought books for her and Ron from a dark store called Gwydion's Gallery, and then potion supplies from an old wizard with a stall outside the bakery. 

"We'll have to get your wand from Ollivander's. You need a new wand," sighed Muriel, "Though I do hate to go below." 

Bellatrix smothered her giggle with her hand, and followed her aunt through the crowd of people. 

"Slimy peasants," whispered Aunt Muriel. Her hand clawed at Bellatrix's arm, and pulled her tightly close. "Galleon-grubbing, swill drinking- Get back, you impudent child!" 

The last was shouted to a first year who strayed too close. The child's father dragged her close, and gave Aunt Muriel a reproachful look. 

"People don't have the respect they had eighty years ago, I can tell you that!" Snapped Aunt Muriel. "Oh, I hope we can take the Floo from Ollivander's." 

The wand shop was as dusty as ever, and Ollivander was as strange as ever. 

"What wand? Oh no! This is made by an amateur. Some apprentice! Oak and Thestral tail hair? No indeed!" 

Bellatrix frowned. "It was a good wand!" 

Ollivander gave her an exasperated look, "No, my child. You need a stronger wand. Do you find yourself getting a headache if you practice too long?" 

"Yes..." 

He raised his fist, "Aha! That's why we don't use Thestral tail hairs anymore. It pulls too much. No, my child. You need-" he cut himself off, and searched his shelves. "Aha!" 

A pale wand was shoved in Bellatrix's hand, and whisked away almost at once. Then another. 

"Maybe a new world tree," said Ollivander, disappearing into the back. He emerged with a wand that crackled sinisterly in Bellatrix's grasp, and yanked it back. "Evidently not!" 

A unicorn hair wand blew black smoke, and a phoenix tail feather wand hurled itself from her grasp. 

"No phoenix's then," he chortled. Aunt Muriel sighed loudly. 

Just when Bellatrix was getting discouraged, he placed a pretty length of light wood in her hand. There was a carved spiral up the base of the wand, and her fingers fit into the grooves as if they were made for each other. Warmth filled her, and she grinned as she gave a swish. Purple and gold sparks showered out in the shape of song birds. 

"Apple," said Ollivander with raised brows. "I never would have guessed. Eleven inches exactly. Slightly flexible. Dragon heartstring core." He let out a small chortle. "Oh I think you'll be just fine, Miss Weasley. Just fine indeed." 

Bellatrix couldn't help but grin back at him, and insisted to Aunt Muriel that she hold on to her wand while they returned home. 

When they got back to the Pink Room in Withering Grange, Bellatrix surprised herself by throwing her arms around Aunt Muriel. "Thank you Auntie!" she sang, kissing the wrinkled old cheek. 

"Yes, well.. Don't make a spectacle of yourself," said Aunt Muriel. Though Bellatrix noticed that she had gone pink, and had a tiny smile on her lips. 

XX

The wand wasn’t the last of Aunt Muriel’s surprises. On one Saturday she entered the kitchen to find a squirming parcel at her spot. A dainty pink envelope fluttered over to her, and she ripped it open and read:

**Bellatrix Celeste,**

**Every young witch needs a proper familiar. Not the clumpy street vermin you share with the boy. Give Ronald full ownership of the rat, and enjoy the companionship of your own pet.**

**Affectionately,**

**Aunt Muriel**

**P.S. If they ask you if it has kneazle lineage you are to deny it. It’s just a garden variety tabby.**

As soon as Bellatrix finished reading she dropped the letter to the ground and tore open the packaging. There, sitting with an enormous pink bow around it’s neck, was the tiniest kitten Bellatrix had ever seen. It stared up at her with wide green eyes, and let out an enormous “Mrow?”

“Oh, Trixie, how wonderful!” Said her mum.

“I guess this means that Scabbers is yours, Ron,” said Bellatrix happily. Ron grinned at that, and sat down to help her think of names. 

XX

Bellatrix named the kitten Livia, but within two days she resignedly changed the kitten’s name to Trouble.

Every crash, shatter, or bang could be pinned to the kitten, who wore a catty grin and strutted happily around the Burrow as if she was immune to punishment- which she was. No one would send back a gift from Aunt Muriel, so the family sighed, and learned to Trouble-proof anything of value.

It was Trouble who alerted Bellatrix to The big twin’s plan to kidnap Harry. The cat howled all night, until Bellatrix tore back her covers and tiptoed downstairs with the furry beast in her hand. Perhaps if she made a bowl of leftover chicken and sausages-

As soon as she flipped the gas lamp on her eyes widened. There, if front of her, Ron, Fred, and George stood frozen with their hand on their dad’s car keys.

“What are you doing?” Bellatrix hissed. “If they catch you driving the car they’ll be furious!”

“We’ve driven it twice already,” said George, as if that made everything ok.

Ron groaned, “Look, Trixie, we’re just going to save Harry from the Muggles-“

“ _If_ he needs saving,” warned Fred.

Ron sighed, “ _If_ he needs saving,” he echoed. “We haven’t heard from him, and neither has Hermione, and I’m worried-“

“I’m worried too!” Shot back Bellatrix. “But what are any of _you_ going to do if he’s actually in trouble?”

“Save him!” said all three in unison.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. “You know that if you rescue him it won’t do any good. All it will do is save him for the summer. Mum and Dad were talking, and Dad said that he had permission to take his friend Devin from the Magical Child Protection Unit to check on Harry on Monday morning. That’s,” she looked the clock, “In eight hours. I think you and Harry can wait that long.”

George nodded thoughtfully, but Fred and Ron still looked mutinous.

“All I’m saying is we wait one more night,” said Bellatrix firmly. “I overheard Mum and Dad talking about it last week and they’re just as worried as we are. But it has to be done _properly_.”

Fred sighed, and released the keys. “The bookworm is really rubbing off on you, isn’t she?”

Ron let out a snort, “You have no idea. Trixie actually did all of her homework already-“

“Shh!-“ Bellatrix tried, but the twins were already chortling over it. “Aunt Muriel made me!” she insisted. “I have to appease her, she’s my sponsor!”

“Suuuuuure,” said George, ruffling her curls. “Well, since we’re up, we may as well play a round of exploding snap. Who’s with me?”

Bellatrix joined in, and it was worth the scolding she got from Aunt Muriel when she yawned multiple times over her embroidery lesson.

She arrived home at noon with a heavy tome titled _Beauty Sleep and why it’s more Charming than Not_ and frowned at the empty kitchen.

“Hello?” She jumped as someone entered the kitchen. 

“Hello Trixie,” said Percy in a tone that said _I’m trying to be civil but you don’t deserve it_. “I’ve made sandwiches for lunch. Ron is with Mum and Dad at the Ministry, but Fred and George are outside eating in the garden. You may join them as long as you bring your plate back in.”

“Percy!” cried Ginny from the living room. “Percy, come back and tell me more about the squid!”

“In a moment, Ginny.” Percy smoothly slid a chicken sandwich onto a plate and held it out to Bellatrix.

“Why don’t I join you and Ginny?” Asked Bellatrix.

Percy’s eyes were cold. “I think you should join the big twins.”

Her appetite was gone, but she accepted the plate and fled to the garden.

“Oh good!” Said Fred, “You can settle a debate we’ve been having- Trixie?” He sat up, his brown eyes concerned. “What’s wrong?”

She threw herself beside them and breathed heavily through her nose. “I hate him,” she seethed. “If he’s going to hate me then I’m going to hate him back!”

Fred and George shared a look, and George sighed. “I knew we should have put the hair dye potion into his shampoo, Fred. Why do I let you talk me out of these things?”

“Never again,” Fred swore. “Trixie, you know he’s just a prat, right? You need to stop expecting him to treat you like he did before he became an evil-“ he broke himself off. The big twins had learned to stop insulting Percy in front of her.

But Bellatrix was tired of defending him. “An evil, slimy, toadie,” she whispered.

The big twins looked shocked, and then slow smiles bloomed over their faces.

“Hippogriff dung,” said Fred.

George chuckled, “Niffler food!”

“Gnome droppings,” added Bellatrix. Her cheeks burned, but she felt better.

“He’s just mad because when Auntie Muriel gets done with you, you’ll be higher in society than he could ever hope to be.” Said Fred.

Bellatrix smiled sadly, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Then she realized with a start she had forgotten Harry. “What happened today?”

Fred and George exchanged a look. “It wasn’t pretty,” Fred said slowly. “Mum came to get Ron so that Harry would have company in St. Mungo’s while they tested him. Apparently there’s a terrible case of abuse and neglect there. Dumbledore’s involved- he says he knows another family member Harry can live with, so if it works out Harry will be going home to whoever that is.”

“He should live here!” Said Bellatrix hotly. She was still fired up from Percy. “We know him better than anyone, we’ve never heard of this other family member.”

“You know what it’s like when Dumbledore is involved,” shrugged George. “We’re just going to have to see.”

It took three days to get the full story. Her parents had gone with Devin from MCPU and had found Harry starving in a locked room with a catflap and bars on the windows. A full work-up from St. Mungo’s showed years of abuse and neglect. Dumbledore swept in with confidentiality vows to protect Harry’s privacy, and found an estranged relative called Lawrence Saltwater-Evans. A burly sailor who demanded they all call him “Larry” and revealed himself to be a halfblood.

“I was in Azkaban twelve years ago,” he said Wednesday night. “Smuggling,” he said to Bellatrix’s Mum, as if it was an inside joke between the two. Mum looked pained, but happily served a third helping of shepherd’s pie. “If I had known about little Harry I would have been his guardian in a heartbeat though. Always wanted a son of my own!”

Despite his tattoos and rough language, none of the Weasleys could find fault with Larry’s treatment of Harry. He handled Harry the way one handled a wounded animal. With respect, but firm adherence to the guidelines St. Mungo’s had set out.

“He needs plenty of sun,” he said to Dad. “Do you mind if he comes over to play in the afternoons? I’m afraid my ship is in a rather cloudy spot. And if I could get some recipes Mrs. Weasley, I think the last time I cooked a vegetable it was on a dare-“

“My great great grandmother was Harry’s great great great grandmother,” Larry explained one night. “A muggle. She had two sons, and one was a muggleborn. Well, the whole family was nice but distant after that, and my great granddad just quietly slipped away from the family.” His green eyes- much softer a green than Harry’s, gentled at the sight of the scrawny boy sleeping under a generation of Weasley quilts. “I’m glad someone kept records though, else how would I have met little Harry here?”

Larry brought Harry to King’s Cross on September 1st, and looked as out of place as ever as he hooted goodbye to Harry.

“Get to the top of your class, my boy! You’ll be great!”

Harry blushed, but waved back, and when Hermione asked how he liked living with Larry the boy sat back and grinned.

“It’s the best thing in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! This WILL be a Bellamione story eventually. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Fall, 1992**

"Slytherin!"

Bellatrix's mouth fell open as the hat sorted Ginny into Slytherin. Across the table, Ron's mouth was equally wide.

George nudged her, "Clap, Trixie, we don't want another Percy on our hands."

A moment too late, Bellatrix started clapping. She watched her baby sister glide over to Percy, and felt a stab of jealousy as her older brother stood and embraced her.

George snorted under his breath, and Hermione nudged Bellatrix's shoulder with her own.

"You're in the better house anyway," Hermione said solemnly.

Fred smiled at her from his spot next to Lee Jordan, revealing a new set of fangs. Despite her sour mood, Bellatrix laughed, and the mood at the table rose considerably.

Aunt Muriel had threatened to make Bellatrix spend all of next summer studying if she didn't get "Exceeds Expectations" or higher in her classes, and so Bellatrix threw herself into her studies with a vigor that had not been there the year before. Professor Sprout commended her on this shortly after the beginning of term, and even Professor McGonagall gave her ten points.

"For vast improvement," she whispered as Bellatrix glowed with pride.

To Hermione's delight, Harry also had motivation for improving his grades. Larry, who was not gifted in what he called "book learning" had commented happily to Mrs. Weasley that Harry was "the brightest boy I've ever met!" within Harry's earshot. Her friend glowed pink, and seemed to make an effort to learn everything he could from then on. The three began to meet after dinner in the common room to work on their assignments together, and Hermione took great pleasure in their work.

"It's like you're her pet," Ron said in disgust one night. Scabbers was on his shoulder as he and Neville played a round of chess.

Bellatrix smiled, "Face it Ron, I'm one of the clever students now. My life is a never-ending round of studying. I should probably ask Dumbledore if I can be re-sorted into Ravenclaw."

Ron looked up in horror, and it took Neville's laughter to make him realize that his twin was joking. "One Hermione is enough," he said, groaning as Neville took his queen.

The only thing Bellatrix disagreed with Hermione about was Lockhart.

"The man is a complete idiot!" She spat one day after Defense Against the Dark Arts. "I don't believe he defeated the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. He's too worried about his hair to put the pomade down long enough to tackle anyone!"

Harry and Ron laughed at this, but Hermione's cheeks glowed pink. "Of course he did everything he said he did," she shot back. "He wouldn't _lie_."

"That's exactly what he did! You saw what he did with the pixies-"

"Not the pixies again," Hermione scoffed. "He was trying to get us to think with our heads-"

"What else would we think with?" Ron asked. He held up his hands in surrender when Hermione whirled on him. "Mercy!"

Hermione's nostrils flared. "A person can be good looking and still be good at his job," she said.

"He's not even that good looking!" Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest. At Hermione's disbelieving snort her eyes narrowed, "He's not! His forehead is entirely too high! And his teeth are too big!"

Hermione, whose teeth were also somewhat large, glowered. "Take it back!" She shot.

Bellatrix lifted her chin. "No."

Hermione shrieked, "Take it back!"

And Bellatrix squared her shoulders and shot back, "No! He's the most hideous man I've ever seen, and I will not take it back!"

"Five points from Gryffindor for shouting in the corridors," said a Hufflepuff Prefect who was passing by.

Bellatrix blew out an angry breath. In a voice barely above a whisper she hissed, "See what your infatuation has done?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and she stalked angrily away.

The girls did not speak for a week. Bellatrix sat with her brother in all classes, and Hermione sat with Harry. It was a lonely week. As much as Bellatrix loved her brother, she missed arguing over homework with Hermione, and listening to Hermione talk. Harry divided his time between the two of them, but Bellatrix barely spoke to anyone.

By Halloween, Bellatrix was convinced that she would never speak to Hermione again.

Then they found Mrs. Norris in the corridor.

"At least Dumbledore believes us," Ron said as they walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry, who was deathly pale, said, "I hope Larry does." Snape made it clear that he would be writing everyone's family about their "strange coincidental whereabouts."

Bellatrix snorted. "Larry loves everything about you, Harry. Of course he will."

The fat lady gave them all a suffering look, but swung open to let them in. The common room was unusually silent. Clusters of students spoke in hushed whispers, and Bellatrix saw a few of them look uneasily at Harry.

Unfortunately, Harry noticed too.

"I'm going to bed," he hissed. He stalked towards the boy's dormitory, and threw the door open.

Ron sighed. "I'd better go talk to him. You know how he gets when there's too much attention on him." He hesitated, then gave Bellatrix a hasty hug.

Bellatrix watched him go, then followed Hermione up to their dormitory.

Lavender and Parvati were still out, and Bellatrix shut the door firmly behind her. "I think we should ta-"

Hermione spun around, "Let's stop fighting," she said, her voice trembling. "I can't bear any of this alone, and I miss my best friend."

Bellatrix's chest warmed at being called Hermione's best friend, and she crossed the room and threw her arms around Hermione. "I'm sorry," she said into Hermione's bushy hair. "I shouldn't have said anything about his teeth. You know I like yours just the way they are."

Hermione's arms were tight around her. "And I'm sorry that I got so offended. Mum says you should never let a man come between you and your friends."

Bellatrix pulled back. "Do you think someone's targeting Harry again?"

"I don't know." Hermione bit her lip, "But I think that we all need to be more careful."

Bellatrix sat down on her bed, and Trouble stalked over to bat at her sleeves. "I can write Bill," she said slowly. "If anyone knows anything about secret chambers it's Bill."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but shut it at as the door opened again.

"Hermione," Lavender looked pale, "Could you do that charm where you make sure the windows can't open?"

Parvati was already pulling off her robes. "I told you that the danger is within the castle!" She rummaged around in her wardrobe and pulled out a nightgown. "We'd be better off barricading the door!"

"I can do both," Hermione reassured Lavender.

Bellatrix watched her perform the charms, and then pulled out her parchment and self-inking quill.

None of them got much sleep that night.

XX

_Dear Trixie,_

_I've heard about the Chamber of Secrets, but only as a myth. Pringle, the old caretaker, used to threaten to shut unruly children in the Chamber when they misbehaved. I think it was more likely that it was an old study of Slytherin's that was sealed away after he died. It sounds like one of the students is using the secrets as a scare tactic. I'm more concerned by that. You never know what a person is capable of until they show you. I'm including a book on practical defense and warning charms. This is the first book they made us memorize during my training. From what you've written, it sounds like your Defense teacher won't be much help. Start travelling in pairs after dark, and remember to_ _watch your back_ _. We don't need a repeat of last year._

_Love,_

_Bill_

Ron, who read Bill's letter over her shoulder, said, "That's all?" He set his elbow down in the butter dish, but didn't hear Parvati's groan of disgust.

Bellatrix folded the letter and stuffed it back in its envelope. "Well, if he doesn't know he doesn't know." She picked up the palm-sized book, "At least he sent this!"

Harry, who had a letter of his own, sighed from across the table. "Larry says I'm not allowed to travel anywhere alone," he held up what looked like a golden compass on a chain, "and he sent me a protective amulet."

"Bill says the same thing!" Bellatrix said, "but he sent me a book on defense charms."

"Well, I think they're both right to be protective." Hermione said, tucking her letter into the pocket of her robes.

"What did your parents send?" Bellatrix leaned forward, "Dad says that muggles have to be super inventive when it comes to defense."

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink. "They didn't send anything," she said, "because they don't know."

Ron nodded wisely, but Bellatrix frowned. "You didn't tell them?"

"There's no need to worry them," said Hermione. "They already think magic itself is dangerous enough. I don't want them worried about a possible madman in the castle."

Bellatrix opened her mouth again, but Harry kicked her under the table. When she met his gaze he shook his head gently.

"What did you write your Herbology essay on, Trixie?" He asked pointedly.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes as Ron gasped and said, "There was an essay?"

XX

Colin Creevey's petrification made the students of Gryffindor house incredibly paranoid. Parvati and Lavender began wearing a chain of protective amulets around their necks. The colorful charms jingled and buzzed through their classes- and, interestingly enough, whenever Harry walked near them.

Unfortunately for Harry, this set off another bout of gossip.

"I wish people would stop saying that I'm the heir," he said miserably one night as he joined Bellatrix and Ron around the common room fire. The big twins had procured a packet of sausages, and Bellatrix and Ron were roasting them as a midday snack. Trouble sat by, watching the sausages with round eyes.

"I think you should embrace it," Bellatrix said. She tested her sausage, and then set it back in the flames. "Start wearing green and silver, stalk around the castle with fangs- ow! Ron!" She rubbed her shoulder where her brother had smacked her.

"Did you hear Malfoy at breakfast?" Ron asked, "He was laughing! We all know that he's the real heir. We just have to prove it!"

A few days later, Hermione came up with a brilliant plan for doing just that.

XX

"I want you to write down everything Malfoy says as soon as you get back to the common room," Bellatrix commanded Harry as she double checked to make sure she had everything for the Christmas evening dinner that Aunt Muriel insisted she attend.

The dinner meant she had a chance to show Aunt Muriel that she had been reading all the books she had sent on deportment, but it also meant that she wouldn't get a chance to use the Polyjuice Potion that Hermione had brewed.

"What about me?" Ron said, a crumb of treacle tart fell from his mouth.

Bellatrix started as Hermione came down from the dormitory, "You have to tell me everything tonight!" She said to the other girl.

"Then why does Harry have to write it down?" Ron asked. He dug around in his Christmas box for another pastry, and crammed it into his mouth.

"Multiple perspectives," Bellatrix said simply. She didn't trust Harry to remember everything, but Hermione was notoriously long-winded about these things. Harry would give her a good summary of the most important parts.

"Your dress robes are very pretty," Hermione said, admiring them.

Bellatrix tossed her curls over one shoulder and grinned. "Aunt Muriel sent them from Vienna." She smoothed the purple lace. "She thinks I'm going to meet my future husband tonight," she admitted.

The boys erupted into laughter, and Hermione's cheeks grew pink. "So soon?" She said, "But you're only twelve!"

Ron cut in, "Aunt Muriel is a bit old fashioned. She was betrothed at thirteen, and she wants only the best for her sponsee," he chuckled.

Bellatrix raised a brow. "Watch out, Ronnie, or I'll tell her that you and Parkinson are becoming friendly."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't!"

She smirked, "I would. I think Aunt Muriel would be thrilled."

McGonagall chose that moment to show up and call Bellatrix to her. The witch gave her friends one last hug, and hurried after her head of house.

Because the dinner was a one-night occasion, Bellatrix had permission to floo directly from McGonagall's study.

"I'll be in my study until eleven," McGonagall told her as she passed her a container of the green powder. "Your aunt assured me you would be back by then." She gave a rare smile, "I hope you enjoy yourself, Miss Weasley."

Bellatrix waved a cheerful goodbye, and stepped into the flames.

As soon as she was through, Aunt Muriel's claw-like hand wrapped around her wrist. "Bellatrix Celeste," she croaked. "Today you enter proper Wizarding society." Her watery eyes raked up and down Bellatrix's gown. "I see you read Pettiwhite's chapter on proper attire, did you bring your handkerchiefs?"

"Yes, Auntie," Bellatrix lifted her sleeve to reveal the dainty white lace that was tucked there.

"Good, good. Let's go then."

They rode in a carriage pulled by a dainty pegasus. Aunt Muriel prattled on the entire ride, and Bellatrix did her best to listen. Her stomach fluttered as they pulled up to a stately red-brick manor.

A house elf greeted them, and took their cloaks. Bellatrix couldn't keep the bright smile off her face as she greeted her hostess, "Mrs. Smith, thank you for inviting us."

Mrs. Smith was a plump witch with a cruel little smile, "Miss Weasley," she said, inclining her head. "I'm so glad that you could make it." She clearly hadn't read Pettiwhite's chapter on sarcasm. Bellatrix's smile dimmed.

Mrs. Smith turned to Aunt Muriel, "Muriel, you look well."

"As do you," Aunt Muriel said, her smile was a bit sharper than usual. "It seems we can still keep up with the younglings after all, hmm?"

Mrs. Smith, who was a good fifty years younger than Aunt Muriel, let out a little gasp, but Aunt Muriel ushered Bellatrix past without another word.

"Thinks she's so great because her husband is a Hufflepuff descendent," Aunt Muriel snorted to Bellatrix. "Well, we all have a little Hufflepuff in us. Merlin bless her, she had about twenty live children."

Bellatrix smothered a giggle, and felt better.

They entered a large room with gold wallpaper and black couches. There were only a few students Bellatrix's own age. Parvati was in attendance with her sister Padma, and the former rushed over to give Bellatrix a hug.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Parvati whispered. "Zacharias Smith has been telling the most _boring_ stories."

Indeed, Zacharias' mouth was flapping away as he stood next to a man who resembled him inch for inch. Padma looked close to tears.

Pansy Parkinson met her eyes from across the room, and turned to whisper to Theodore Nott. The boy snickered, and Bellatrix colored.

"There's not as many boys as I would like," Aunt Muriel sighed. "Well, the summer events are better for betrothals anyway. We'll have more luck there."

Parvati stuck by her side as Aunt Muriel made the rounds. Bellatrix's cheeks ached from smiling, but she didn't want to embarrass Aunt Muriel by being anything less than perfect.

To her relief, no one else reached the way Mrs. Smith had. Most of the older witches and wizards were, at best, bored. But they politely shook her hand and asked what her favorite subject at school was.

A tall man winked at her and said, "Your Dad and I used to work together, tell him I said hi, will you?"

Mrs. Patil patted her shoulder, "Any friend of Parvati's is a friend of the family," she said, and Bellatrix glowed pink as Parvati groaned.

But the most interesting greeting of all was the one that came from the most beautiful woman in the room.

"Madam Malfoy," Aunt Muriel pushed Bellatrix forward, "Allow me to introduce my niece, Bellatrix Celeste."

Twelve years of living with Fred and George made Bellatrix an expert at reading faces. She noticed the widening of Madam Malfoy's eyes, and felt a funny feeling in her chest.

"Bellatrix Celeste? What a beautiful name," Madam Malfoy said. Her voice was lovely. She leaned forward, and Bellatrix was enveloped in the smell of ginger. "Tell me, is it a family name?"

A few heads had turned to stare, and Bellatrix felt quite overwhelmed. "I-I'm n-not sure," she stammered. Then, a moment later, "I know I had a cousin named Bellatrix. She went missing during the war."

"My sister," crystal blue eyes peered closely at her features. "Did you know that?"

"No, Madam," Bellatrix said. Then, in a rush, "I'm sorry, you must miss her very much."

"I do."

The bell rang, signaling the start of dinner, and Madam Malfoy's face relaxed into an easy smile. "Would you like to sit with me at dinner?"

"Oh yes!" Bellatrix felt drawn to Madam Malfoy somehow, and she grinned easily up at the older woman.

Aunt Muriel patted her arm happily as they entered the intricate dining room. A single long table took up the enormous room, and a hundred glasses shone beneath the floating candles. The ceiling was painted with tiny cherubs that giggled and flew from cloud to cloud overhead.

"Tell me all about yourself," Madam Malfoy said as soon as they were seated.

So Bellatrix did. She told Madam Malfoy about having six brothers and one sister, and what her life was like at the Burrow. She told her about Trouble, and about being best friends with Harry Potter. Madam Malfoy made all the appropriate comments, and gave her whole attention to Bellatrix.

"It must be so wonderful to have a twin," Madam Malfoy said as she took a dainty bite of beef tenderloin.

Bellatrix tried to copy the woman's movements exactly. "It is," she said truthfully. "I love Ron more than anyone, and he feels the same. It's like having a best friend and a brother at the same time!"

"I felt the same way about my sister, though we weren't twins, so I'm sure we didn't have the same bond." Madam Malfoy's eyes glittered, "I'm glad you're so close to your brother."

Bellatrix basked in the woman's smile. "You must miss your sister very much," she said, feeling that it was unfair that such a wonderful woman had experienced any sort of loss.

"I do," Madam Malfoy inclined her head, and a flicker of pain entered her eye. It was gone in a moment, and Bellatrix wondered if she had imagined it. The dazzling smile was back, "But tell me more about school."

Bellatrix launched into an epic retelling of her part in taking down Quirrell the year before. Had Hermione heard her, the other girl surely would have shushed her, but Bellatrix felt incapable of keeping anything from her new friend.

Aunt Muriel was obviously pleased with the attention that Bellatrix was receiving, and interjected every now and then with comments such as, "Bellatrix Celeste is the top of her class in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts." Or, "Bellatrix Celeste has a very fine hand at embroidery, she sent me a lovely cover for my stitching basket for Christmas, you simply must see it sometime."

"Is Defense your favorite subject?" Madam Malfoy asked. Her eyes seemed to glow with amusement as Bellatrix made a face.

"It would have been, if we had a competent teacher!" Bellatrix said, then, at a stern look from Aunt Muriel, "I'm sorry, that was uncharitable."

"It's quite all right," Madam Malfoy laughed. "Your honesty is refreshing."

Bellatrix smiled, and sat up straighter.

Aunt Muriel leaned forward, "Where is Lucius tonight?"

Madam Malfoy smiled, "Still on holiday, I'm afraid. He likes to get away every once in a while. I'll be rejoining him tonight."

Bellatrix was amazed that someone as horrid as Draco Malfoy could have such an amazing mother. He must get it all from his father, she decided.

At the end of the night, Madam Malfoy kissed her cheek. "We must stay in touch, Bellatrix," She said. "You remind me of someone I was very close to."

Bellatrix smiled, "I'd like that very much," she said honestly.

As they settled into the carriage Aunt Muriel sniffed. "I think that went very well. I'm very pleased with you, Bellatrix Celeste." Then, after a moment, "You'd better not tell your parents."

Bellatrix agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey all, thanks for your interest in this story. I've got a few chapters written, and I plan for it to be a short (ish) fit about this plot bunny that's been floating around in my head. Sorry for any typos or inconsistencies, I'm really just writing this to play around and encourage myself to write a little more.
> 
> Much love, B


End file.
